


Control

by Amputation



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien is a sub okay?, Aged-Up Character(s), Begging, Bondage, Dom/sub Play, Domestic, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Identity Reveal, Implied Consent, Japanese Rope Bondage, Kinbaku, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, My First Work in This Fandom, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Submission, Not Underage, Porn With Plot, Post-Series, Queer Character, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Tags May Change, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, educate and copulate, eventually, mari is a gr9 domme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amputation/pseuds/Amputation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You like being pushed around, don't you, Adrien?"<br/>He swallowed, unable to deny it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. première partie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BullySquadess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/gifts).



> I am trash. I am going to hell. I absolutely blame BullySquadess for this madness. 
> 
> Adrien is totally a sub. I will believe this til my dying day.
> 
> This trash is entirely un-beta'd and full of sin.
> 
> Edit 2/12/16 - fixed some typos. Working on the next part because I'm going to hell.

* * *

**C O N T R O L**

 u n 

 

Paris Fashion Week exhausted him. Between the runway, never-ending photo shoots, and false camaraderie in the after parties, Adrien Agreste was done. If he never had to pose or strut again it would be too soon. He checked his watch, squinting through the flashing lights to see the time: two. He'd been here long enough that he wouldn't be missed. Snaking his way through the throngs of people in the nightclub, Adrien escaped into the cold night air. Exhaling sharply, he stared up at the moon hanging in the sky as his breath fogged. Nights like these made him nostalgic. Since the defeat of Le Papillon at the end of high school, he'd found himself whisked away from Paris and thrown into the world of high fashion with a ferocity he hadn't truly anticipated. His father had been so pleased, but Adrien's heart had been torn. He hadn't wanted that life; he'd wanted rooftop chases, late night patrols... 

He heaved a great sigh, running his fingers through his blonde hair, mussing it from its properly coiffed state before heading off into the night. Rounding a corner, he stealthily leapt up the side of a building to stand in the shadow of the chimney protruding from the rooftop. He leaned against the brick, crossing his arms over his chest and staring up at the moon. Quiet reigned, and he found himself relaxing as the soft sounds of Paris at night washed over him. His eyelids drooped and he almost nodded off until-- 

"Adrien." 

He startled, whipping his head to stare in the direction the sultry whisper of his name was called from. His heart seized in his chest. 

Ladybug was looking at him, unmistakable in the moonlight. Her pink tongue darted out to lick plush lips that quirked upwards into a dangerous smirk. He swallowed, shocked that she still remembered him. Shocked that she would seek him out. He watched with wide eyes as she approached, her shapely hips swinging like a metronome with each step she took. He was hypnotized by her, by the sway of her lithe body. She'd grown up well, blossoming into a devastatingly beautiful woman. He inhaled sharply as she reached out to caress his face with a gloved hand. 

"My, my... how handsome you've become," she purred, her blue eyes smoldering beneath her mask. 

"I-I'm surprised you remember me," he stuttered, feeling outrageously stupid. He hadn't had much interaction with Ladybug outside of his time as Chat Noir, and her recognition of him was shocking. What did she want? 

"Tell me, Adrien," she murmured, so close now that he could feel the heat of her body, "what it is you want from me?" 

It was less of a question as it was a command and a shiver shot down his spine, his stomach filling with heat.  

"I-I don't understand..." 

She chuckled, the sound rich and husky, reminding him of dark, plush velvet. 

"You desired me once, didn't you?" 

The way she phrased it was more of a statement and he gasped as her hand slid from his face to his neck, fingers trailing down his chest. He didn’t understand precisely how she knew that fact, but he was certainly not going to quit playing along. He nodded. 

She leaned in closer, the heat of her breath ghosting against the skin of his throat. He could feel the softness of her breasts against the hardness of his chest as she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. 

"Tonight's your lucky night,  _Chaton,_ " she murmured and he only had a moment to wonder how she knew before her lips pressed to his.  

It was a ferocious thing and he groaned, his hands reaching out to find purchase against the wall. Adrien felt like he was on fire, his whole body tingling with each shift of her hungry mouth against his. Her tongue was insistent, tracing the seam of his lips until he surrendered to her conquest. Her hand slid up his neck before gripping the hair at the back of his head and tugging sharply. A strangled noise escaped him but the lips and teeth against his throat halted all thoughts of embarrassment.  

He'd never had a lover who kissed him like she did. Never had a woman kissed him with such fervor and intent, with such toe-curling passion. This was so sudden, so new and oh _god!_ Her teeth grazed his suddenly exposed collarbone and a sharp keen escaped his throat, his hands frantically clutching her arms for purchase. Adrien had never felt like this before, never had anyone reduce him to this mess of a man _._ Desperate for more contact, he arched against her body, trying to get closer and rolling his hips against hers in a slow motion. Quick as lightning, her other hand gripped a hip and slammed both them back against the brick chimney with surprising strength. A long, wanton moan was drawn from his throat, the sound desperate in the night air. His eyes snapped open as he registered his actions, heat filling his cheeks. 

Blue eyes met green and his breath caught. She was looking at him with pride in her eyes, her reddened lips quirking upwards in a smirk. 

"You like being pushed around, don't you, Adrien?" 

He swallowed, unable to deny it. Ladybug leaned in close, and he trembled when her hot tongue traced the shell of his ear, teeth nibbling the lobe. He clung to her, forgetting his embarrassment. How could he be when her lips and teeth alone could do _that_ _?_ Her fingers tightened against his hip and he groaned, head falling back against the chimney. He'd have bruises, and damn if that wasn't the sexiest thing. His fingers trembled from their perch on her upper arms, clinging desperately as his knees threatened to give out. 

"Arms up," she murmured against the shell of his ear, her hot breath sending shivers down his spine. Adrien immediately obliged. The moment his hands went up, her hand left his hair and pinned his wrists above his head as his lips parted against hers, his moan vibrating between them. Her other hand slipped from his hip and slowly eased under his shirt, her gloved fingers tracing the muscles of his abdomen. Each touch was feather light and he writhed against her. 

"You make such lovely noises, Chaton," she crooned, her fingers dipping south towards the hem of his slacks. A gasp escaped him, slowly morphing into a needy whine as she undid the buckle of his belt with dextrous fingers. He'd never been so aroused in his life, far beyond the point of embarrassment. He'd never known Ladybug to be so... in control. She'd always been poised, yes, but this... this was something he'd never known he'd wanted. He rolled his hips into empty air, his voice strangled. 

"P-Please, oh _god_ , Ladybug _please..._ " 

Her hand left his wrists but he didn't dare move them as it joined her other hand by the waistband of his slacks. 

"Please _what_ , Adrien?" She whispered before pulling his shirt up over his head in a swift movement. His arms felt tangled in the fabric, and he struggled for a moment until the wet heat of her mouth against his chest made him shake and moan. He could feel his skin bruise under the attention of her lips, teeth, and tongue but it only made his desire skyrocket. She made her way down his abdomen, each press of her mouth against his quivering skin bringing him one step closer to euphoria. 

"NNgh--oh, god!" 

She chuckled, the sound rich and melodic to his ears and he shuddered. Her tongue dipped below the waistline of his slacks and he sucked in a sharp breath, unable to stop his hips from bucking. Her hands returned, gripping each hip with a ferocity that was sure to bruise even deeper. He moaned, uninhibited, and he'd never been so aroused in his entire life. 

"Ladybug... p-please..." 

"You beg so sweetly," she said, and oh god he could feel the heat of his breath through his slacks.  

Her fingers traced the waistline, confident and unwavering as buttons were undone. His breathing grew heavy, each exhale coming out like a whine as she slowly pulled his slacks and boxer briefs down to his knees.  

"So desperate, aren't you, Adrien?" 

"Y-Yes, oh god _please_ , Ladybug!" 

"Do you want me to touch you here?" She asked, blowing cool air against his straining erection. He keened sharply. 

"Hmm?" 

"Y-Yes, yes please!" He cried, prying his eyes open to see her. He shivered. 

Although she was kneeling before him, it was clear she held all the power. She was calm, collected as he was nearly shaking to pieces. Her dark blue eyes sparked with both amusement and lust and Adrien found he liked it more than he probably should. She pressed kisses to his hip bones, maintaining eye contact and his whole body convulsed. 

"Eyes on me. Don't look away," she commanded, her voice soft but booking no argument. Not that she'd get one. He nodded, biting his swollen lower lip as she pressed open mouthed kisses along his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes and succumb to sensation alone, but his Lady had commanded he watch. 

He never would have thought he wanted to be bossed around like this, never would have guessed this type of seduction would work on him. Distantly a part of him knew if it was anyone else attempting said seduction it would be a failure. He was jolted from his thoughts as a sharp slap to his rear echoed in the night air. He hissed at the contact, the burning pain bleeding away into a rippling pleasure and his hisses turned to moans as her open mouthed kisses began anew on his hips. 

"What do you want, Adrien?" 

Her voice was sin incarnate, silky smooth and oh so seductive. He keened out a whine as her tongue traced shapes mere millimeters from the base of his throbbing erection.  

"I-I need yo _\--aaahh!_ _\--_ you, please!" 

Another slap was earned and he bit his lower lip, biting back the groan as pain bled into pleasure. 

"How badly?" 

"S-So much!" 

"What do you want, Adrien?" She asked again, the heat of her breath ghosting along the head of his cock. His hips jerked. 

"Oh god-- _please!--_ I need y-your m-mou-- _aahh_ _, oh god!_ " 

He swore his vision went white the moment her lips wrapped around him. It was exquisite, that molten heat. He moaned, uninhibited even as his hands twitched. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into her hair, just grip for purchase. But he couldn't. His Lady had given a command and he dared not disobey now. He keened loudly as her tongue swirled around his length as she sucked. She'd hardly moved her mouth at all and already he felt ready to burst. 

He'd never felt like this. He'd never done this before. He didn't think he'd ever be able to be with another person again after her. Ladybug was ruining him, destroying him. He had loved her for so long and now... now he was falling for her in a whole new way. His desire for her was never a secret but now it was an inescapable fact. He pressed back against the brick chimney desperately, seeking support as she bobbed her head along the hardness of his cock, tongue applying pressure exactly where he wanted it. He didn’t think he could possibly last any longer, but he never wanted this to end. 

Ladybug hummed around his dick as her tongue did things that made his hips jerk and thrust up into her mouth before he could stop himself. Her hands pressed against his hips, forcing him back again with ferocious strength and he moaned her name to the night air, desperate for release. His arms tingled from where they remained above his head, his upper arms shaking with both exertion and exhilaration. 

"P-Please, Ladybug, p-please! I-I can't..!" 

He'd never begged so much before in his life, and by god if it wasn't an absolute turn on. He'd never thought that he would enjoy being at the mercy of a sexual partner, but he found it was exactly what he'd wanted. The feeling that he, Adrien Agreste, poised supermodel and occasional superhero, could be reduced to a pleading, moaning mess was undoubtedly arousing. None of his partners had ever attempted to take control, he had always been in charge, but here... here he could lose himself to sensation and give himself over to the capable hands of his Ladybug. 

He gasped as the head of his cock bumped the back of her throat and he felt his body tighten. He was so close! His knees trembled, his arms ached. He felt dizzy with lust, his body quivering in Ladybug's grip. Her mouth worked against his hardness, tongue swirling as she swallowed around him, the rippling of her throat drawing heady moans from him.  

"L-Ladybug! I-I'm..!" 

He looked down at her with desperate eyes and she met his gaze with a calm, confident one. Her lips quirked around his dick as she swallowed and _hummed._  

It was all it took and-- 

\--Adrien sat up in bed, gasping. 

He looked around, dazed, as he registered he was in his apartment. A sinking feeling washed over him, and he shifted slightly, suddenly alerted to the wetness in his boxer briefs. He shook his head, disappointment sinking its' claws into his skin. 

"It was a dream..?" 

"A great dream, if your gross noises were anything to go by," Plagg commented idly, floating into view. The kwami smirked at his chosen. 

Adrien groaned and flopped back against his bed. 

"Yeah... a great dream." 

"Wanna talk about it, kitten?" The kwami asked, hovering in front of Adrien's face. 

"I..." Adrien sighed, running his hands through his hair, "It was about Ladybug." 

"Ladybug?" Plagg sounded surprised, but Adrien supposed that was understandable. He hadn’t encountered her in years. 

"Y-Yeah. She..." He paused, unsure of himself. 

"Uh-oh, you're blushing! You haven't done that since middle school!" 

He groaned, covering his face with his arms, "Plagg, there's something wrong with me!" 

"Well I could have told you that!" 

"Plagg!" Adrien snapped, a desperate whine in his voice that immediately made his blush darker. 

"Okay, okay!" The kwami settled down next to his chosen, "What's eating you, kid?" 

"Is it... normal to want someone to take control during sex?" 

"Whoa!" Plagg darted away, "Kid, I love ya' but where the hell is this coming from?" 

"In my dream, I..." Adrien groaned. He was a 24 year old man for fucks sake, why was this so difficult?! "I was with Ladybug and she... she was so in control." 

"… and?" 

"And... and I really, _really_ liked it," he murmured, shame slinking up his spine. 

Plagg was quiet for a long moment, "Oh." 

"Yeah. _Oh._ " 

The two sat in silence until Plagg sighed, "Well, nothing you can do about it I suppose. Although it is weird you dreamed about Ladybug. You haven't seen her in a long time, Adrien." 

"I know... I wonder if I'll ever see her again." 

"Maybe your brain thought you saw her last night? Dreams are like that sometimes." 

Adrien pondered that for a moment, shrugging, "Maybe..." 

Plagg sighed, "Come on, loverboy. Go get in the shower and cleanse yourself. You're disgusting and you don't want to be when you meet up with your high school friends later." 

Adrien smiled for the first time that morning as he leapt up and headed for the shower, pushing his dream off to the side to be examined later. He'd called Nino a few weeks ago to let him know he'd be back in Paris for a while, and of course the guy had called Alya and Alya had called Marinette. The gang was getting back together again and he couldn't wait to see what they'd been up to. 

* * *

 


	2. deuxième partie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot finally pokes out from behind the sin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still un-beta'd. Got a tiny taste of BDSM info in this one, sinners. I'm big on proper BDSM protocol, so you will definitely be seeing it done correctly in this fic. No dangerous Fifty Shades abuse bullshit here.
> 
> Educate and Copulate.

**C O N T R O L**

 

d e u x

* * *

 

 

The café was mostly empty when he entered, a fact for which he was grateful. Nino said they would be meeting here at two, and when he glanced at his watch the face told him it was ten to two. He smiled. He took a moment to decompress, inhaling the scent of coffee and espresso while his muscles relaxed. Glancing around, he took stock of his surroundings. The barista was chatting pleasantly with a dark haired woman at the till and a teenage couple were curled up by the windows in soft looking armchairs, chatting while clutching their mugs. Otherwise, the café was barren.  

Pulling off his beanie and sunglasses, Adrien shook out his blond hair while silently thanking whatever deity he could think of that it was too cold to sit outside. It'd be less likely to be spotted if he was indoors as opposed to outside, and being a celebrity sometimes could be a massive pain. Stepping up behind the dark haired woman he allowed his thoughts to drift. Inevitably, they drifted to his dream. 

His primary question about it was whether or not the dream was a subconscious desire or if it was just fantasy. If it was just a fantasy, then no big deal, he could just continue on as he had been, no harm no foul. But if it wasn’t… could he really carry on the same way? He frowned in thought. How would he go about explaining that to any future partners? _"_ _Oh, yeah by the way I like to be bossed around and held down during sex is that cool with you?_ _"_  He cringed, rubbing the back of his head. That would undoubtedly go over very badly, but maybe on the off chance... 

Adrien resisted the urge to bang his head against something hard and stepped forward as the dark haired woman turned around, resulting in a jarring collision. 

“Shit!” she hissed. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying atten—tion?” His words trailed off as his brain registered her distantly familiar voice. 

He blinked down into blue eyes so intense his dream hit him in the hormones with full force. He immediately felt his dick twitch in interest and heat flooded his face. It was impossible...  

“Adrien?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, her blunt bangs hiding her arched brows. Suddenly he recognized her and mentally kicked himself. 

She smiled up at him and he couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful she’d grown up to be. While cute in school, she'd blossomed into an absolute stunner. She stood a half head shorter than Adrien, her long black mane tied back with precision, not a hair out of place. Her sharp bangs were so vastly different from the side swept ones he remembered from school. Her makeup was flawless, almond eyes lined crisply and with obvious finesse. Lovely cheekbones he didn’t remember her having accentuated the full, red lips that quirked up at him.  

He swallowed, “Um, hi, Marinette.” 

“How have you been?" She asked, her expression softening, "It feels like its been forever,” she began walking over to a communal table in the corner of the café. He watched her move to sit on the opposite side of the table and was struck by a sudden revelation. 

 _She moves so gracefully, doesn’t she?_ _Wasn't she clumsy in_ _school? What happened?_  

His eyes caught the slight movement of her fingers wrapping around the hot mug in her hands, and he noticed her fingernails were painted black; a bold choice. In fact, her entire ensemble was bold. Gone were the cute feminine clothes she wore when they'd gone to school together and in their place were solid power pieces. Her dark blue blazer was obviously custom, tailored by a precise hand to nip in at her tiny waist. Her white shirt underneath was bright and wrinkle free all the way down to where it was tucked into gray jeans behind a designer leather belt. A thin black necklace rested at the hollow of her throat and Adrien was seriously wondering if she'd been taken over by a pod person until a flash of red from her stud earrings caught his eyes. He smiled, finally finding something familiar. 

“It does feel like forever, doesn’t it?” He replied to her earlier statement, “I’ve been well, Fashion Week just ended and I'm just glad to have some time for myself.” 

Marinette hummed as she took a sip of her drink, the noise shooting straight down his spine. It was so familiar to the sound Ladybug had made in his dream and he cursed himself. He shifted slightly where he stood, trying to discourage an erection and cleared his throat. 

“Ah, yeah. I’d forgotten about that,” she murmured, "I've not been in years." 

He blinked, “Years? I remember you being very set on becoming a fashion designer, what could have changed?” 

She chuckled, the sound low and rich and sending images unbidden through his mind. 

“Don't get me wrong, I could never give up design and I still do it, but it's for a _very_  niche market. My best work is not really very well known yet, but I’m very happy with where my life has gone,” she said, smiling up at him over the lip of her mug. He coughed, excusing himself to order an espresso as the bell above the entryway jingled. 

“Adrien! Mari!” 

“Hello, Al-- _whoa!_ " 

"Alya!" 

Adrien was nearly trampled as the red haired woman hurled herself into the café. She ran over to the table, all but knocking Marinette out of her chair in her enthusiasm. He chuckled, watching the two women catch up. Last he'd heard, Alya had gotten married and had a baby on the way. He squinted and tilted his head to the side. While soft and curvy, she didn't look pregnant and he wondered if he'd heard incorrectly.  

Thanking the barista for his espresso, he headed back to the two women at the table. Watching their interaction was enlightening. Alya was vivacious and excitable, gesturing wildly as she spoke to her best friend about some topic he wasn't privy to. In contrast, Marinette sat with perfect posture, poise seeping from every pore. He resisted the urge to stare as he realized since he'd seen her not once had her posture been anything _but_  perfect. 

A hand came down heavily on his back and he fought back a wheeze. 

"Adrien, bro! Man, it's great to see you!" 

Green eyes slanted to look at his best friend as a smile spread across his lips. 

"Nino, dude!" He cheered, pulling the shorter man in for a hug, "It's so great to see you! How's the club going? Are you ever gonna' let me check it out?" 

Nino laughed nervously, patting Adrien on the back again, "In due time, my boy, in due time! We have a more pressing engagement though, don't we?" He said, gesturing to the two women waiting for them at the table in the corner. 

"Nino!" Alya chirped as the two men sat down, Adrien beside Alya and Nino beside Marinette. 

"Hey, Alya! How's Viv?" He asked, leaning across the table. 

Alya's face softened immediately, "She's great. First trimester's almost up and she's just started showing." 

"Wow. I'm so happy for you, Alya," Marinette said softly, smiling at her best friend with kindness. 

Adrien suddenly realized why Alya didn't look pregnant. Her _wife_  was carrying their child. He almost slapped himself for forgetting. Nino shot Adrien a smirk, having caught his _'oh duh'_  expression. The blond flushed in embarrassment as the shorter man turned to Marinette. 

"Mari, oh man, Valerie was so impressed with your latest bit. It was magnificent!" 

The dark haired woman's eyes softened, her fingers relaxing on her mug, "That's great, Nino." 

"Yeah, Felix wants to commission you again as well, he thinks he needs a new look at the club." 

Marinette laughed, and Adrien wanted to commit the sound to memory. It was so lovely. 

"Felix is constantly asking for something new. Last time it was latex! Let me tell you, that is not an easy material to work with!" She said, raising an eyebrow at the dark skinned man beside her, "What is it this time?" 

"I'm not sure, but he definitely wants you to call him to set up a consultation." 

Adrien looked between the two, "Am I missing something?" 

Nino grinned, "Oh, sorry I keep forgetting you were in Italy when we partnered up. Mari here makes all the gear for my club performers." 

"Gear?" 

Alya elbowed Adrien in the ribs hard enough to bruise, "Whips and chains, handcuffs... kinky shit!" 

His eyes widened, glancing between Nino and Marinette, "W-What? You're joking!" 

"Surprise?" The darker man shrugged. 

Marinette smiled softly, peering up through her lashes to make eye contact with Adrien. It was a powerful stare, those blue eyes could stop wars... 

He cleared his throat, trying to be casual as he arched an eyebrow at his best friend, "So _that's_  why you've been so secretive about your club? It's some kind of... fetish-y place?" 

Nino laughed, his cheeks darkening as he sheepishly rubbed his neck, "You got me there! Sorry, dude. I wasn't sure if it was something you were comfortable with." 

"I've..." He trailed off, awkward with the conversation, "I've done fetish shoots before, it's not a big deal. Why didn't you just tell me?" 

He nearly missed the way Marinette's eyes darkened at the admission, and his cock gave a jerk in his pants at the smolder she sent his way. He tried to ignore it. 

"I guess... I didn't want to scare you off," Nino shrugged, "You've always seemed kinda' vanilla, dude." 

He tilted his head to the side, "Vanilla?" 

Alya laughed, "Vanilla is what you call someone who's more into the good ol' fashioned bump-n-grind. None of the crazy BDSM stuff these two are into," she said, grinning at her best friend and waggling her brows. 

To her credit, Marinette didn't even flush, instead smirking and rolling her eyes in return. Adrien commended her poise, wishing he had that kind of composure. 

"I seem to recall a certain woman asking me for a custom harness a year ago..." 

Alya gasped, "You said you wouldn't tell Nino!" 

Marinette's smirk turned dangerous, her blue eyes darkening as she simply smoldered at the red haired woman opposite her, "Whoops." 

The sight sent another jolt of want straight through him and into his dick. He cursed his traitorous body silently, trying desperately to think of anything to kill his semi... Nino in a bikini, maybe? 

Said man was cackling, wiping at his eyes as Alya suddenly joined him in his mirth. Marinette even let out a few chuckles into her mug. He looked between the three of them, feeling like he'd missed something. He cleared his throat, attracting their attention as they calmed their amusement. 

"Um, not to sound ignorant, but," he paused, heat burning in his cheeks, "what's BDSM?" 

Silence reigned for what seemed like an eternity for Adrien. He could feel his blush getting darker with each passing second and he wanted to dig a hole and just hide. Blessedly, it was Marinette who broke the awkward quiet with a gentle, understanding smile and kind eyes. He was startled at the sudden change, the shift between dangerously in control and sweet and soft. He swallowed nervously. 

"To put it simply, BDSM is an overlapping abbreviation for a sect of erotic roleplay. The BD represents bondage and discipline, the DS dominance and submission, and the SM as sadism and masochism. A practitioner of BDSM may dabble in one, some, or all of these areas." 

Adrien nodded, relief washing over him, "I-I see," he mused, turning green eyes to blue, "so, say someone was interested in, ah, being bossed around and held down d-during sex," he started, stumbling over the words as his face flamed in embarrassment, "would that make them a practitioner of BDSM?" 

Marinette tilted her head to the side, seeming to ponder the question, "Not necessarily. It certainly makes them submissive, which is a great start, but it would depend on their willingness to explore their desires with a Dominant." 

He blinked, surprised by the simplicity of her explanation. So DS, Dominance and Submission, huh? Nodding to show he understood, he shot her a winning Agreste smile, "Thanks, Marinette. You're really knowledgeable about this sort of thing." 

"Yeah, she's the one who mentioned it to me in the first place!" Nino said, leaning back in his chair with a smile, "She helped me figure myself out during college. I still owe you for that, Mari." 

She waved him off with a flick of black painted fingernails, "Nonsense, Nino." 

Alya snorted, standing abruptly and gesturing for Nino to follow her to the counter, "Come on, idiot. Let's get some drinks. I'm parched!" 

The two headed off to the counter, arguing over whether mocha was better white or dark. 

Marinette watched them go with a fond expression, and Adrien liked the look on her. Briefly, he wanted her to look at him like that but he quickly banished the thought when her blue eyes turned to him. 

"You seem awfully interested in BDSM, Adrien," she said, arching a brow. 

He swallowed, "W-Well, it's something I've never heard of before. It sounds pretty intriguing." 

She smiled widely at him, her eyes lighting up, "Well, if you're interested I'm sure I can convince Nino to let you tag along with me when I go to see Felix." 

"I-I-what?" 

She tipped her mug back, swallowing the remnants of her drink. He watched her as her pink tongue slipped from between her plush, red lips and licked the remnants of foam away. He had to bite back a moan. 

"Would you, Adrien Agreste, like to come with me to a BDSM club?" She asked, her voice a husky seductive purr as she leaned towards him, clasping her hands together on the table. 

His mouth fell open and he stared at the beautiful blue-eyed being across from him, for the first time that day not wondering how she'd evolved from such a shy girl into such a confident woman, but instead being glad she had. 

He swallowed, and spoke. 

"Yes." 

* * *

 


	3. troisième partie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien learns not to Google BDSM and Ladybug is hot as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd again, just a hint of sin in this one. Don't worry guys, there'll be more. Right now there's just a lot of plot to put in place. 
> 
> Also a tiny bit of aftercare. Just a little taste.
> 
> Curse my inability to write porn without plot.

**C O N T R O L**

 

trois

 

* * *

 

The lunch meet up had been mere hours ago, but it felt like an eternity to Adrien. It had been so wonderful to see everyone there and they’d fallen into easy conversation as though they’d never been apart. Everyone had such diverse lives; Nino DJ'd and owned his club, Alya worked for a famous website, and Marinette... well. They'd spent a long time at the café, chatting and consuming far too much caffeine like they used to do in high school. Eventually the nostalgia had to come to an end, and before pulling on a brilliant blue peacoat Marinette asked Nino about bringing Adrien to the club with her. The darker skinned man just shrugged and smiled. 

“I'll leave you in Mari's very capable hands,” he'd said, waggling his eyebrows at the dark haired woman. She’d rolled her eyes but a tiny smile had quirked her lips. Adrien absently wondered what that was about, but there were more pressing matters at hand. 

Seated before his computer, Adrien felt like his brain was going to melt out of his ears. He’d just spent the last few hours researching fetishism, erotic roleplay, and BDSM... what he’d seen _scared_ him. The porn was mostly unwatchable and full of leather and whipping. When he'd learned there was a book series and movie about the subject he'd been relieved! But the crazy amount of backlash the series had gotten from the fetishist community, he gave it wide berth. No Fifty Shades stuff. Memo received. 

He didn’t understand how Nino and Marinette fit into this strange dark world, nor how they felt so comfortable there! It just seemed so crazy, so intricate. How could someone plan some of the things he'd seen and read about? Some of it piqued his interest (now _ropes_  sounded lovely) but much of it seemed too over the top. He still wasn't sure if his dream was just a passing fantasy; a moment of weakness? He groaned, holding his head in his hands as he vowed never to do internet research ever again. He’d just have to ask Marinette; after all, she seemed to know the most about it all. 

“Hey kid, what’s eating you?” Plagg asked, flopping down on the computer desk. 

Adrien sighed, “Lots of things. It’s all so much information I honestly don’t know where to begin.” 

The black kwami hummed, turning his head to look out at the darkening sky. Adrien found himself wishing for the simpler times when Le Papillon was around; that he could deal with, beating the bad guy was straightforward, after all. The human and kwami sat in companionable silence and not for the first time, Adrien was grateful Plagg stayed with him even after Le Papillon's defeat. 

“Maybe a run will get you feeling better?” the kwami hinted, grinning. 

With a laugh, Adrien glanced down at the ring he never took off, “You know what, Plagg? I think it just might! Claws out!” 

The transformation took hold, the brilliant green light enveloping his body. It was always exhilarating, and he found himself laughing as Adrien vanished and Chat Noir emerged. He stretched a little, his costume having changed slightly since last time he'd worn it. He checked himself out in the mirror for a moment, grinning. Gone was the golden bell at his throat, instead his suit was unzipped to just below his pectorals, the zipper bearing his green cat paw emblem. A soft, black fur mantle decorated his shoulders, adding a flamboyant edge to an otherwise streamlined design. Detailed lines edged his torso and angled sharply down over his hips, further defining his musculature and adding interest; the design reminded him of bikers' suits. His ever-present tail swooshed behind him, flicking of its own volition. He winked at his reflection. 

Leaping off his balcony into the evening air he vaulted to the next rooftop, an enthusiastic whoop leaving his lips. Falling to all fours for speed, he bounded off the side of the building, tumbling onto another rooftop with a quick feline twist of his body. Nothing stopped him like this, after all cats always landed on their feet. Nine lives certainly didn't hurt matters either. Green eyes slanted as he plotted a course through the city. Backflipping off the roof he was on, he broke out into a sprint, hurling himself towards his destination in a series of acrobatic twists and flips. Paris flew by him, a blur in the night and he found he'd missed this. It was brilliant, even if there were no akuma to fight. He felt invincible as he raced across the city. He made one final leap onto the roof of Notre Dame, where he collapsed to his rear, staring out at the Eiffel Tower illuminated in the distance. He'd missed Paris. 

He heard a soft tap behind him and he froze. 

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in." 

His spine went rigid at the voice and slowly, Chat Noir turned to glance over his shoulder. He felt his face flame at the sight. 

Ladybug stood behind him, one hand resting on a shapely hip. It seemed his wasn't the only costume to change. Her hair hung behind her in two long, low ponytails, her bangs sharp across her forehead. Her throat and shoulders were covered in her typical spots, but from her bust down to her hips was black, cinching in tightly at her small waist. Across her hips sat two yo-yos, slung across casually on a black leather belt. Her wide hips continued down to impossibly long legs, all clad in red and black spots. Her arms were also clad in black, making her look as though she was wearing a pair of opera gloves. He swallowed nervously. 

"Been a long time, Chat."  

"My Lady! _Purr_ fect entrance, as always," he charmed, feigning confidence. Internally he was screaming, cursing the universe for making this version of his Ladybug even more attractive than she'd been in high school. His brain was already on the run, replaying the scenes of his dream with the Ladybug before him in place of the woman he remembered and god damn if they weren't even more arousing than before. 

She rolled her blue eyes from behind her mask, dark red lips quirking up in amusement. 

"You never change, do you?" 

"Im _paw_ sible, I'm afraid!" He replied, standing to face her, "Miss me?" 

"Like a foot fungus," she teased. 

He feigned insult, "How cruel! And here I thought you cared!" 

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. He felt like he was going to spontaneously combust, his heart racing in his chest and heat rushing through his veins. He swallowed, hiding his nervousness. 

"So, My Lady, what is there to do in Paris these days? It's been a _paw_ fully long time, after all." 

"Your puns are as bad as ever," she deadpanned, smirking and crossing her arms across her chest, "I don't do much these days without Le Papillon letting akuma loose on the populace every other day." 

He smiled, walking towards her and opening his arms, "Come on, Ladybug! Bring it in, your kitty cat wants a hug!" 

The beautiful woman before him laughed again but didn't back away. She stepped forward into his waiting arms, embracing him tightly. Chat Noir had to force himself to breathe as his heart tried to beat out of his chest. He closed his eyes and gripped her tighter as she rested her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into the soft fur over them with a happy hum. She felt so _right_  there in his arms, it seemed like it would be a cardinal sin to ever let her go. She tilted her head up and he froze, his spine going rigid as her hot breath ghosted his ear from beneath his hair. 

"I've missed you, Chaton. It's good to have you back," she purred. 

He choked. It took every ounce of his willpower to fight back the sudden moan that threatened to escape his throat. The feel of her solid, lithe body pressed against his ignited into a blaze that he fought to contain as it spread from his fingers to his toes. His hands flexed, wanting to pull her even closer, cling to her. The force of his sudden desire left him dizzy, and he inhaled sharply. 

Big mistake. 

The scent of her, of jasmine and honey, wrapped around him with a ferocity that shouldn’t be allowed to be associated with such delicate aromas and sent him reeling. Unable to fight the urge, he buried his nose in her neck, inhaling like a man starved. His nose nuzzled against the skin available to him and he bit his lower lip to keep back the groan of satisfaction. He felt it rumbling in his chest as he pulled her closer, drowning in the scent of her. 

"Chaton..." She murmured, her voice husky and breathless. 

God, did that voice do things to him. The stirrings of arousal within him that had been brewing erupted in a spectacular explosion in his chest. Heat flashed in his veins and the groan he'd fought so hard to fight back escaped his lips in a heady rumble. Her hands gripped hard against his back and he trembled slightly at the power in those slender fingers. Unbidden the image of her clawing his back came to mind and he let loose a long, low purr in satisfaction. 

"Chat!" 

Her sharp voice snapped him from his stupor and he flung himself away from her like she was on fire. His face might as well have been for how badly it burned with heat. He stared at her, wide eyed and off balance, swallowing. 

She seemed blessedly unphased by his behavior, smiling at him coyly, "I didn't know you missed me _that_ _much,_ " She said, eyes flicking down his torso to his-- 

\--oh _shit._  

"I--uhh..." 

Ladybug just smiled at him, winking as she dextrously unhooked one of her yo-yos, swinging off the rooftop.  

"H-Hey, wait!" He cried, startled by her sudden departure. He pulled his staff from his back, extending it and vaulting after her, determined to catch up if only to apologize. 

"Still can't catch me, can you, Chat?" She tossed over a shoulder, laughing. 

"Maybe I let you win 'cause I like the view!" He threw back, feeling far more confident with each leap across rooftops. 

Ladybug was grace incarnate, spinning on her toes as she flung herself from one surface to another. Her strength was deceptive, and he never doubted that she could flatten him in a moment if she so desired. He really did enjoy watching her, it was like watching ballet and he couldn't calculate the strength needed in each of her movements; she did everything with such ease. She spun around mid leap sending him a coy wink and smile before somersaulting off the rooftop she danced across. He flushed, and when she leapt up to the next surface he blew her a kiss. He expected her to bat it away but instead, she caught it. His eyes widened and his heart raced from more than just exertion. He grinned widely and took off after her. 

After a grueling game of cat and bug across Paris, he collapsed next to her on the roof they'd stopped on, falling over into her lap and panting. Her shoulders heaved as she sucked in air, a giddy expression dancing across her features. 

"Seriously now," she said, gently running her fingers through his blond hair, "how have you been, Chat? I feel as though it's been eons since I've seen you." 

He sighed, relaxing into her touch, "Mmn, I've been well. Did a lot of travelling for work." 

She made a noncommittal noise as he snuggled in closer, enraptured with her touch and closeness. She'd never let him do this before, and he exulted in their new closeness. 

"I'd tell you more, My Lady, but if you're still so set on anonymity between us I'm afraid I would make things too obvious. After all, we did attend the same school." 

Her chuckle was light and airy as her fingers coaxed a rumbling purr out of his chest. 

"That we did." 

"How have _you_ been?" He asked, green eyes blinking up into blue. 

She smiled down at him, softness in those blue eyes, "I've been alright. I've been very lonely lately, so having you back is certainly a relief." 

He frowned, sitting up and looking at her with concern, "Lonely, My Lady? How?" 

She sighed, "Don't get me wrong, I love my life. I love my job, I love the people I work with, but sometimes... sometimes I feel that the people I care for the most don't see me for me. They see my career and not much else." 

"How could a career overshadow a marvel such as yourself? I, for one, deem it impossible!" 

"That's just it, Chaton!" She cried, "You _know_  me. You always have!" 

He flushed at her words just as she seemed to notice what had slipped through her lips. A lovely pink color began flooding her cheeks and Chat leaned in closer for a better look. Oh, it had been so long since he'd seen his confident Ladybug blush! 

"O-ho! I _know_  you, Ladybug?" 

"S-Shut up, you stupid cat! Don't try to embarrass me. I know what I said, and you know what? I meant it." 

He was taken aback at her sudden ferocity. The way her eyes glinted in the moonlight reminded him of the Ladybug from his dream, of her fierce confidence. He tilted his head to the side, wondering if his dream hadn't been far off after all. Here was a woman who was supremely confident in herself, always in control. Maybe what she needed was for someone to let her control someone else for a time, make her remove her inhibition and turn the reins on someone else. And if that person happened to be him... 

"Well I don't know anything about your career, but I think I can safely say you hold yourself too tightly, My Lady. You always have," he said softly, nuzzling her jaw, "so perhaps you should turn that control onto... someone else for a while." 

He watched with bated breath as those blue eyes darkened dramatically, smoldering in the Parisian night air as she stared him down. Her posture changed, spine straightening and jaw tightening. Her fingers tightened where they were in his hair, and he whimpered quietly. If possible, her eyes darkened further. Chat felt his dick jump enthusiastically in his pants. When she finally spoke, her voice was thick with something he couldn't identify. 

"Are you volunteering, _Chaton?_ " She purred, leaning in close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips. He swallowed. 

" _Purr_ haps I am... what happens if I say yes?" 

Smoldering eyes bored into his own and his heart thudded wildly like a hummingbird in his chest. Was this what his dream had been trying to tell him? Was he correct in his assumptions? She leaned in closer, bypassing his lips and hovering over where his ear was concealed by his blond hair. 

"If you want me to stop, my safeword is _raglan,_ " she whispered. He had no time to ponder what a sewing term had to do with wanting him to stop before she captured his lips in a heady kiss. 

It was even better in reality than it was in a dream. The way her plush lips molded against his was worthy of a thousand love ballads. The heat of her body radiated into his own and he thought he would combust. He grabbed her arms to center himself, trying to grasp some balance as his world turned upside down. Her lips were so insistent against his own, dominating the kiss with a seductive balance of lips and teeth. As she nipped his lower lip, a moan slipped from his throat as her tongue explored his mouth.  

He was drowning in sensation. Her scent was everywhere and her kisses rendered him boneless. He could feel her fingers digging into his scalp, tugging gently at his hair. He groaned as her grip suddenly tightened, gasping aloud as his head was jerked back, exposing his throat to her hungry mouth. A loud keen escaped him as her teeth traced a tendon, her tongue soothing the sting with molten heat. She attacked his throat with a fervor that knocked the wind out of him. The world shrank down to the feeling of her mouth on him, of the way her tongue and teeth left what would undoubtedly be bruises below his collarbones.  

Her other hand snaked up his torso, gripping at his wrist before she shoved him bodily down to the roof, the hand previously tangled in his hair pinned his other wrist above his head. His chest heaved, his body flushed with pleasure. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins, could feel himself hardening as her dark gaze swept down his body. Her eyes paused over his throat, a satisfied smirk passing over her lips before she licked them slowly. The action made his back arch as a needy whine tore its way from his chest. Too aroused to be embarrassed, he writhed under her grip. She hovered above him, their bodies scant inches apart and he desperately needed that contact. 

"L-Ladybug, _please.._!" He pleaded, his eyes slipping closed. 

"Begging, are you?" 

He whined again, his hips rising to press into hers. She held herself just out of reach and it was driving him crazy with want. He needed _more_ , more of her control, more of her touches. She was a drug and he was addicted. As her lips grazed his throat, he keened and dropped his head back against the rooftop to expose himself more fully. And then she did something he never expected. 

She growled. 

" _Mine._ " 

And molded her body to his. He moaned at the sudden contact, arching beneath her as she applied more pressure to his wrists, tasting her way down his chest. He heard a metallic click and it took all his strength to open his eyes and look at her. He immediately wished he hadn't. She had his zipper pull between her teeth, and while maintaining eye contact she slowly pulled it down to expose more of his skin. She smirked, the look dangerous. 

"Oh _god_!" 

He shook with pleasure as her tongue traced its' way down his newly exposed torso, dipping in the grooves of his abdominal muscles while her teeth nipped here and there. It was an exquisite form of torture and he never wanted to be released from it. Her hands inched down his forearms towards his elbows, the pressure never ceasing. She had such power over him, he dared not press back against her, dared not try to break her grip in fear of her _stopping_. 

Her body pressed against him and he could feel every single one of her muscles flexing and relaxing as she moved. Her breasts pressed against his thighs as she kissed her way down the exposed skin of his body and it was driving him mad. He was so hard he felt like he would burst, and with each slow, tantalizing press of her stomach against him he felt himself unravel a little bit more-- 

 

BEEP. 

 

\--and he never hated his Miraculous more. 

Ladybug pulled back from him, frowning at the noise. He sat up, following her as she leaned away. He went to nuzzle at her chin, feeling bereft from their sudden lack of contact. 

"There is nothing I hate more than being dragged from something I was enjoying," he purred, a hint of a whine in his breathless words. 

He felt her smile as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss so vastly different from the others. This was sweet, soft. and gentle as she carded her fingers through his blond locks, soothing him with her touch. She took her time, her kisses relaxing him one by one until he was putty in her hands. He leaned into her body, feeling treasured and adored as she peppered his face with sweet, chaste presses of her lips to his skin. 

"Purrhaps less running next time," she murmured, pulling away from him as her Miraculous beeped again. 

His heart soared at her words. 

She wanted a next time. She _wanted_  a _next time_! His eyes fluttered open and his breath caught in his throat at the sight that awaited him. 

Ladybug was looking at him with something akin to wonder in her eyes, a smile playing on her swollen, dark red lips. Her cheeks bore a flush and he could tell exactly how happy she was. He rejoiced as she stood, pulling him up with her. When she released his hand and stepped back, he smiled back at her. 

"Whenever you need me, My Lady, I'll be here," he said softly, warmth suffusing his every pore. 

Her entire body relaxed at his words, happiness overtaking her expression. She pulled him close, hugging him tightly. 

"Welcome home, Chaton." 

And with that, she was gone, leaving a content black cat alone on a rooftop. 

He sighed dreamily until his Miraculous beeped a third time. The sound jolted him from his contentment as he remembered that he still had to meet Marinette at the club in a few hours. Yelping, he hurried off towards his apartment, a new crisis on his mind. 

What the hell was he supposed to wear to a BDSM club!? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternote on Aftercare
> 
> So aftercare is super important. I'll try to sum up the important parts. 
> 
> In D/s relationships, when a scene is performed often times the sub enters what's known as "subspace." This is a great place for the sub to be during the scene, but once the scene is over, it can cause the sub's mood to plummet. Perhaps feelings of insecurity or shame crop up, and the sub suddenly feels awful about what they'd just enjoyed. This is called "sub drop". This can be eliminated or reduced by aftercare. After care is as simple as it sounds. Post scene, it's the Dominant's job to take care of their sub. It's important for the Dom to make the sub feel safe and loved, to make them feel appreciated and special. For some, it's as simple as bestowing soft kisses and snuggling. For others it may be carrying their sub to a hot bubble bath and washing their hair or body for them. It can be as simple or elaborate as the sub needs, but it's always important to offer something.
> 
> In chapter one, Adrien experienced a little bit of sub drop. Even though his his scene technically wasn't real, his Domme (dream!Ladybug) didn't give him the proper post scene care.
> 
> If you are interested in starting a D/s relationship, remember: SAFE SANE CONSENSUAL is our mantra, and don't let your Dom/me skimp on your aftercare. Play safe, kiddos!


	4. quatrième partie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien is curious and aroused and Marinette has a history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd and freaking long. I wanted to succinctly wrap this up so we could dabble in some more sin.  
> There's some base knowledge in this chapter, especially regarding trust in BDSM relationships.  
> Enjoy my garbage, guys.

**C O N T R O L**

 

q u a t r e

 

 

* * *

 

Adrien stared at himself in the mirror, wincing. No matter what clothing items he put on himself, he still looked awkward and uncomfortable. At that moment he wore the nicest of his black button downs, the fabric hugging him perfectly. His black jeans fit like a glove, cinched with an understated silver-buckled leather belt. It was normally a killer outfit, but his destination was throwing him off. He'd tried switching it up with some colors, but it just made his awkwardness even more apparent. Adrien took a deep breath, scrutinizing himself for a final time before deciding his outfit would have to do.  

"Channeling your inner superhero, kid?" 

Green eyes slanted to the innocuous form of Plagg as he floated by Adrien's desk before shooting down to his ensemble. 

"Huh. Maybe a little bit," he replied, a small smile crossing his face. He _did_ look great in black, didn't he? 

Checking his watch, he noted the time. Fifteen minutes before he would have to leave, and the real adventure would begin. His first time at a BDSM club, armed with very little knowledge and a particularly beautiful and intelligent woman beside him. He swallowed, wondering what Marinette was going to be wearing. 

Maybe she kept it obvious, a black corset hugging her body and a black pencil skirt skimming her curves, fishnet stockings disappearing under the hem and feet in a pair of Louboutins, the red sole the singular flash of lusty color. Or maybe she would come in a latex dress in a fiery red, worn under a sharp-shouldered half jacket as over the knee boots encased those mile long legs in black leather. He worried his lower lip with his teeth, his face flushing as his imagination conjured up imagery. Would he be underdressed beside her?  

He shook his head, turning his gaze to the web page he'd left up on his computer screen. _Silhouette_ was a reasonably popular nightclub, catering to the young population four nights of the week with Nino's talent in the DJ booth and his insistence on top notch bartenders. The rest of the time, _Silhouette_ catered to a _very_ different crowd, offering performances, classes, and meet-and-greets for the members of the BDSM scene. What intrigued him the most were the performances, considering he had no idea how it was possible. Did they just have sex on stage or something? 

Adrien shuddered slightly, hoping that wasn’t the case as he didn't think he'd be able to stomach watching two people go at it in front of him. He cringed at the thought, playing with his shirt cuffs. He huffed in annoyance, trying to decide if he should wear them down or rolled up, going back and forth between the two.  

"Roll 'em." 

Shooting a surprised glance at Plagg, Adrien rolled up the sleeves to his forearms. 

"I'm surprised you even care enough to offer input." 

The kwami made a noncommittal noise, "Kid, I've been around for thousands of years. A little forearm never hurts." 

"A-Are you trying to insinuate something, Plagg?" 

"Hmm?" The black kwami lazily asked, obviously pretending he hadn't heard Adrien, "You say something?" 

Making a noise of annoyance, Adrien hid his smile as he brushed imaginary dust from his shirt. Plagg was a great companion, even if he liked to pretend he was an asshole. Adrien knew better, having been around the black kwami for years now. He'd gotten used to the brusque and dismissive commentary, knew how to pick out the advice from the snark and the compliments from the bored drawl. 

"Why do you care so much about whatcha' look like, kid? Trying to impress somebody?" 

Adrien froze. Was he? The only person he could think of was Marinette, but she seemed so uninterested. Was that why he cared so much? So he could make himself a blip on her radar? So she could see him and consider him? His head swam with the implications. Did this mean he had feelings for Ladybug _and_ his old classmate? Groaning Adrien rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, grinding until spots danced across his retinas. 

"I don't know, Plagg. Maybe?" 

The kwami grumbled something unintelligible and floated over to the large bed. 

"Well, I'm gonna sit this one out. You go do that weird stuff," Plagg said, settling in against the pillows. 

Adrien rolled his eyes at his companion and checked his watch a second time. Time to go. He pulled on his leather jacket and headed out of his apartment after checking his pockets for his wallet, keys, and phone. He walked down the stairs of his apartment building before heading outside, breathing in the crisp night air. His taxi would be here in a moment, and he would be walking into a BDSM club for the first time. Inhaling slowly, he tried to calm his fraying nerves but was distracted when his phone vibrated. 

 **I'll be waiting for you out front. What's your ETA?**  

He smiled. Marinette was so considerate, and he'd hoped she'd wait for him. His nerves quieted as he read her no-nonsense text. Quickly punching in a reply, he hit send as his taxi pulled to the curb. 

 ** _I'm five minutes out. Thanks for waiting. See you soon!_**  

Time flew as the taxi navigated through the streets of his beloved city. _Silhouette_ wasn't as far away as he'd anticipated and before he'd gotten his bearings, the cab pulled up to the curb outside the nightclub. Paying his fare, Adrien took a steadying breath as he exited the taxi. He pulled his leather jacket tighter around himself, suddenly feeling very cold and exposed. None of the various pedestrians side eyed him here, no one asked for an autograph. Here, it seemed he was invisible and for that, he was grateful. 

He turned his gaze towards the entrance of the club, green eyes searching for Marinette. Not knowing what she'd be wearing gave him a slight disadvantage and for a brief moment he cursed his lack of foresight. But as it turned out, he needn't have worried. He spotted her almost immediately, her blue peacoat a dead giveaway. As he approached, waving a greeting that she returned, he discretely examined her outfit. Her black hair was left down, those sharp straight bangs marking a striking line across her forehead. Her makeup was impeccable, her soft smoky eyes alone the envy of countless make-up artists to say nothing of her perfectly red lips. He noticed that she wore the same black necklace she'd had on earlier in the day, the thin black band resting at the nape of her throat. Her blazer this time was black and obviously impeccably tailored to her curves. Beneath it was a rich blue and silver satin brocade overbust corset with a sweetheart neckline, pressing her modest breasts together enticingly. Her legs were encased in a pair of sinful black leather pants, the slim fit accenting the swell of her hips as the hem disappeared into a pair of black designer boots embellished with stylish silver buckles. She was a vision and he swallowed nervously. 

He shook himself out, a little voice in his head reminding him that he was Adrien Agreste, a highly sought after supermodel and that he'd stood beside much more beautiful women during photoshoots. (Inwardly he knew that last part was a lie; his breath had been well and truly knocked from him at the sight of her; the only person who matched her beauty was Ladybug and even then...) Straightening, he  strode towards her with a winning smile and confident step. 

"Hey, stranger." 

Her smile softened and he very nearly forgot to breathe as stunning blue eyes skimmed him up and down. 

“Hey yourself. Going Gothic tonight, I see.” 

“Well,” he admitted sheepishly, “I honestly wasn’t sure what one wears to a BDSM club and I was too embarrassed to ask… so this is what ended up happening. Is it okay?” 

“Adrien, you look wonderful. Don’t worry, you’re with me tonight and no one will bother you. I promise,” she said, resting her hand on his arm. He glanced down at her slender fingers and black varnished nails, nodding as he choked down a blush. She seemed so serious and he wondered why. 

“Do you trust me, Adrien?” 

The question caught him off guard and his eyes snapped up to hers. A sadness seemed to swim through the blue, twisting with hope and fear. She was so earnest in her need to make him feel comfortable, it was obvious in everything she’d done. Her soft, considerate voice, the gentle reassuring touches, the need to prove herself to him. She’d been this way in school as well, he remembered. She was always there when he'd needed a boost, her earnest support often being the factor that pushed him over into confidence. Adrien was taken aback by the odd feeling of warmth that spiraled up his spine and he immediately knew the answer to her question. 

“Yes, Marinette. I’ve always trusted you.” 

The way her smile shifted from cautious to confident told him all he needed to know. He’d said the right thing. 

“Well then,” she said, her shoulders rolling back into perfect posture, “shall we?” 

She offered him an elbow and he took it without reservation, a Chat-like grin splitting his lips as she led him inside. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. All in all, the interior of _Silhouette_ looked remarkably similar to other nightclubs Adrien had been to over the years. The décor was mostly red and black, several shades of gray here and there as accents. Leather, velvet, and satin seemed to be the textural themes, all of which were rich fabrics evoking feelings of indulgence and seduction. The lighting was dim and the music was darkly rhythmic, the pounding beats reminding him of the thudding of his heart. People milled about, most dressed in dark fabrics and a few rich colors. Deep blues, emerald greens, and dark red flitted through the throngs of club-goers, the hues appearing and vanishing just as quickly within the overwhelming amount of black. His eyes lighted on the main stage, his jaw dropping open at the sculpture sitting there.  

A large metal circle mounted on a wide triangular base took up the majority of the stage, the smooth surface interrupted by the occasional loop or hook. It reminded Adrien of a gyroscope, but it didn’t look like that this one moved. All by itself, it seemed cold and clinical; like a fine art sculpture that didn’t have any discernible rationale or usefulness behind it. Marinette must have noticed his scrutiny because she placed a warm hand against his upper arm, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. 

“That’s for the performance tonight. It will be lovely, after all, and Felix never disappoints,” she murmured, the timbre of her voice low and husky. Adrien fought down a shiver, curious about this Felix character. 

“Isn’t he the one you’re here for?” 

Marinette hummed approvingly, the sound shooting straight to Adrien's dick, “Very good,” she purred, her lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, "You remembered." 

He forced himself to swallow down the groan that threatened to spill from his lips, clenching his fists instead. 

“Well, well. Seems like you’ve found a new toy to play with, Mari.” 

The disembodied voice came from behind him and Marinette stiffened, a scowl crossing her face before turning to face whoever it was. Curious, Adrien turned to look. 

A tall blond man stood before them, piercing gray eyes peering out from behind loosely styled bangs. He wore a black shirt under a silver waistcoat, the top buttons undone to expose his chest. His black jeans were ridiculously tight, and his shoes were designer. Something about him irked Adrien immediately, his curiosity flaring in his chest at the narrow eyed look Marinette shot him. 

"Felix, my, trying hard tonight aren't you?" 

The blond scoffed, feigning hurt, "Oh, Mari, you assault me with your words! So cruel." 

"Only when I must be." 

And within an eye blink, the masks were dropped, the blond man laughing along with Marinette. Adrien felt like he'd been slapped by the sudden emotional whiplash. Marinette stroked his arm gently, speaking to Felix. 

"Felix, this is Adrien. And before you ask or insinuate anything, no, he's not mine." 

The other blond took a step forward, insinuating himself within Adrien's personal space. It was distinctly uncomfortable as the taller blond pulled his shirt collar aside to see his neck. 

"Hmm, obviously. The lack of collar speaks for itself, but I must ask why, Mari! He's positively delicious!" 

"Felix, Adrien is one of my oldest friends and I'm pretty sure he's not interested in what I have to offer." 

Adrien blinked, turning to stare at the dark haired woman beside him. 

"Huh? What are you talking about?" 

Felix chuckled good-naturedly, tossing an arm around Marinette's shoulders, pulling her close and rubbing his cheek against hers. Adrien was struck by the image, and his heart clenched in his chest as his insides seethed. 

"Mari here is a marvelous Dominant! I was her first, you know," he drawled, smiling widely. He looked every bit the cat who got the cream and Adrien wanted to sock him right in the teeth. 

"She really is a wonder, you know. After all, she had a wait list at one point, that's how many subs wanted her! I got lucky, and she'd already collared me when the requests started rolling in..." 

The more the other blond said about how marvelous Marinette was, the angrier Adrien grew. The arrogance in the other man was staggering. He spoke of Marinette as though he owned her (or like she owned him, it was a bit confusing at times) but it was far too familiar for him. He knew that his possessiveness and jealousy would have to be examined at a later date, but for now it set his blood aflame. Felix was still prattling on, saying something about Mari's ropework, whatever that was, and something about her toy collection when suddenly— 

"Felix!" Marinette snapped, the command in her voice unmistakable. It was amazing how quickly the blond clinging to her slid to his knees, bowing his head and averting his eyes. Marinette glanced down at him with anger clouding her eyes, making the bright blue appear dark and stormy. Her lips curled back in distaste as she pressed a boot to the blond's chest, pushing him back. 

"Felix there is and was a reason we split up. Do not insinuate that you know me best, as it was a very long time ago that I collared you," she snarled, her voice booking no argument. 

Adrien felt his spine straighten as he watched the blond on the floor go from proud and bragging to shaking and weak from her words. Marinette applied a bit of pressure with her boot and Felix's gaze snapped up to her, his gray eyes clouded with shame and a healthy amount of lust. It took Adrien by surprise; the blond seemed to enjoy her reprimand, enjoyed being humiliated in front of others. Swallowing, he watched as Mari put her foot back on the floor, her hands on her hips as she shifted her weight. 

"Apologize to Adrien for being such a selfish braggart." 

The gray eyes snapped to green with a speed that alarmed Adrien. 

"Humblest apologies, Adrien. I should not have been selfish," he said, licking his lower lip. 

"Ah, it's um, it's no problem," he finally replied, rubbing the back of his head. Marinette smiled, extending a hand down to the blond man kneeling on the floor. 

"Alright, alright, stand up you numbskull," she teased, pulling him up to his feet when he took her proffered hand. Felix snapped right back to his cocky personality, grinning at her and then shifting his gaze to Adrien. Adrien gulped. 

"Well, we have business to attend to, don't we?" He quipped, gesturing for the two of them to follow to a table off to the side. As he walked on ahead, Adrien turned to Marinette. 

"Um, what just happened?" 

A deep sigh escaped Marinette, "Sorry. It's a game Felix likes to play, he keeps trying to bait me into taking him back as my submissive. I'm just not interested." 

"He called you a Dominant. What's all that about?" 

She paused, pursing her lips, "In a BDSM relationship there are always at least two players: a Dominant or Dom/me and a submissive, or sub. The Dominant is in control of playtime, and the sub submits to their whims. However, it's a relationship that must be built on trust, and Felix lost mine a long time ago." 

She didn't explain further, choosing to slide into her seat with grace. Adrien sat beside her, his eyes glazing over after the two began discussing costumes and fabric options. His eyes caught on a couple up by the stage, one woman wearing normal clothing and the other in a skintight bodysuit with bright blue rope binding her arms behind her back. The rope criss-crossed her torso in intriguing lines, making diamond shapes against the bodysuit. She didn't look uncomfortable and lounged calmly beside the other woman. Adrien wondered how much time it took to tie the ropes, intrigued. 

His eyes jumped to another couple, one of whom seemed to be acting like a dog. The dark haired man sat at the other man's feet, a collar and leash around his neck. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and it looked like he was panting. The other man reached down to ruffle the dark hair of the man in the collar and—okay, that was a little weird. 

Everywhere his eyes fell he began to notice more and more about the people here. Whereas at first he'd only noticed the colors, he began spotting more and more alternative materials. Latex here, leather there. Along with the materials he found himself staring at certain toys more than the others. One couple that intrigued him were a man and a woman, but the woman was bound in leather cuffs and blindfolded, having to trust that the man she was with would take care of her needs. 

Marinette's words came unbidden to him. 

 _"...i_ _t's a relationship that must be built on trust..."_   

That was something he could understand. Trust was something he required in all his past relationships, and when that trust was broken, so was the relationship. He'd lost more girlfriends (and one boyfriend) to broken trust than anything else. The idea of having someone he trusted implicitly in his life was a tempting one, but having that trust in a relationship revolving around dominance and submission scared him. He needed more information. 

"...so you think it's doable?" 

Adrien was jolted back to the discussion taking place at the table, shaking himself from his thoughts. 

Marinette was drawing something in a small sketchbook she'd procured from somewhere on her person, smiling. 

"I think so, Felix. I'm just glad you're forgoing latex this time." 

The blond across the table chuckled, examining the sketch when it was held up for his perusal. His smile was dazzling. 

"It's perfect, thank you, Mari!" 

The dark haired woman chuckled, "Good," before pulling out her phone and attaching a white device to it. Felix handed her a credit card and she swiped it and handed it back. 

"Same as always; half now and half when it's finished." 

"Fair enough!" 

The transaction over, Marinette slipped her sketchbook and phone into the pocket of her peacoat. Felix stood, kissed her knuckles, and then disappeared into the throngs of people. As soon as he was gone, Marinette took a deep breath, visibly deflating. 

"Marinette? Are you okay?" 

Her blue eyes turned to him and he swallowed. Her gaze was exhausted, and he felt a great surge of worry for her. She smiled tiredly at him, a weak quirk of her lips. 

"Thank you for your concern, but I'll be okay. Felix always seems to drain me emotionally," she admitted, sighing and relaxing back into her seat. Adrien nodded, leaning towards her. 

"Chloe used to do that to me," he said, admitting a little tidbit to balance the scales between them. 

Marinette laughed, "I had a feeling. You always did look so uncomfortable!" 

He smiled, clearing his throat as he wondered how he could ask her his questions without making things awkward between them. 

"Um, so..." 

She giggled, the sound lovely in his ears, "Go ahead, Adrien. I know you have questions." 

He blushed, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment at being caught so easily, "Aha, well, I was really wondering about the trust aspect." 

Marinette leaned forward, her face settling into an expression of calm patience, "What about it?" 

"How do you know if you trust someone enough to well... to branch out into scenes?" 

She sat back, a deep sigh leaving her.  

"It's hard to truly know, but that's part of having trust. You trust that your partner will tell you what they want and that they will respect your boundaries. You trust that you can take care of them without fear of accidental injury... but ultimately, you have to trust _yourself_ first." 

"Oh," he murmured, taken aback by her adamancy and sadness. It made him extremely curious about what Felix did to make Marinette so sad. 

"What happened with Felix and I," she started, as if she'd known of his train of thought, "was that he continued pushing boundaries, asking for more than I was capable of giving. He broke my trust by manipulating me into getting what he wanted," she murmured, her posture weakening as the weight of her admission seemed to press her downward. 

"I'm so sorry, Marinette. You don't—you don't have to tell me anything else." 

She smiled at him, "I know. You've always been such a kind man, Adrien. Thank you." 

The praise warmed his insides as the dim lighting flickered out, a spotlight illuminating the stage. Marinette perked up immediately, turning her attention to the stage and leaning forward in her seat. Adrien turned in his chair to watch as well, pulling it beside hers. 

"So... what's this performance of?" 

"Felix and his Dom have a series of scenes they perform publicly, but judging by the rig they have on the stage, it's going to be some serious bondage and hopefully a tad of suspension. 

He was about to ask what she was talking about, but the performers walked out and the ritual began.  

Watching Felix be tied up with red rope, spread open so the latex pulled at his skin was erotic in a way he hadn't expected. Watching, his unasked questions were answered as the blond man was broken and left mewling for more by the capable hands of the man on stage with him. He made the mistake of glancing at Marinette during the performance and his breath stopped. 

She watched the two men on the stage with calculating, dark eyes. Interest seeped from every pore as she leaned forward, fingers steepled before her red lips and he felt like he was going to combust as she licked them slowly. Her hungry gaze swept over the red ropes, seeming to trace the lines as they traveled across Felix's torso. He wondered what it would be like to feel that heated gaze on him, to have her attention focused so closely on himself. She hummed in intrigue as the other man brought out a riding crop and Adrien gulped, fighting down his growing arousal. 

When the two of them left the club and parted ways, he knew he was doomed.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternotes from your Domme Author
> 
> So it should be said that everything Mari talks about with Adrien is true. BDSM relationships are built on trust, and cannot succeed without it. There are plenty of reasons for this, the most important of which is SAFETY. If you're concerned for your safety, don't submit. If you don't feel you can safely take care of your submissive, don't do the scene. You have to be confident in your own abilities and confident in your partner's abilities if you want the relationship to work. There's no way around it. Don't ever enter a relationship with an inexperienced Dom/me if they don't seem to take safety measures (such as having scissors on hand if there's bondage) and don't enter a relationship with a sub if they do not respect your boundaries.
> 
> Play safe!


	5. cinquième partie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien is a wreck and Ladybug will always save Chat Noir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay strap in, readers. There's some serious sin in this chapter.  
> Adrien in subspace and aftercare included! You're welcome.  
> As a Domme, I'm a bit ignorant of the sensations experienced by subs.  
> As such, most of the descriptions of Adrien"s experiences come from my sub's experiences. <3  
> Enjoy, you kinky fuckers.
> 
> Edit 2/20/16: I want to thank [EmbraceTheFlamingo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EmbraceTheFlamingo/pseuds/EmbraceTheFlamingo) for checking this crap out and finding little errors. You're wonderful and I adore you. <3

**C O N T R O L**

 

c i n q

 

* * *

 

 

The LED of his clock mocked him with each passing minute. Four AM was fast approaching, and sleep had eluded Adrien entirely. His mind raced, thoughts scattered and unorganized as images flew unbidden through his subconscious. Parted lips… heaving chest… red lips curling into a smirk. The drag of soft leather against his chin… the press of a spiked heel against his shoulder… a firm grip on his wrists, forcing him down down down… 

A groan slipped from between his bite-swollen lips as he pressed his forearm over his eyes. His hips rolled unbidden into empty air, his aching erection confined within the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. His arousal hadn’t faded in the slightest, raging like a storm in his belly since he’d parted ways from Marinette. Parted ways from a woman so completely different and yet achingly similar to the girl he’d gone to school with. 

It had been a mistake to go to _Silhouette_. Now he was lost in a sea of leather and satin, of bondage and control. He'd been exposed to this strange and seductive world, and now he didn’t think he’d ever be able to return to simplicity ever again. Every time he closed his eyes he saw himself in Felix's place on that stage, bound in stripes of red and desperately pulling against the beautiful restraints. He could taste the leather of the riding crop on his tongue, heady and warm before it whistled through the air… 

He sat up abruptly, his chest heaving. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the trembles that wracked each digit. He was thoroughly wrecked, his pulse racing wildly in his neck. He didn’t know how to quench the raging fire in his belly, the molten heat flying through his veins. His cock stood proudly in his boxer briefs, begging to be touched but he couldn’t. How could he, when every time he closed his eyes he pictured Marinette standing over him, leather swathing her curves and a black mask surrounding her blue, blue eyes. She tapped a riding crop in one hand, a deadly smirk quirking those red lips as her stiletto heel pressed against his shoulder, pushing him back as his wrists pulled… 

“ _Aahhnnngh_ fuck!” 

Adrien's eyes snapped open and he wrenched his hand off his dick like it had burned him. God, what was he doing?! Trying to get off on the thought of his friend what, dominating him? His face flamed, both in arousal and embarrassment, the combination only succeeding in fueling his lust further. He needed an out. Some relief. Release, anything! 

Standing from his bed on shaking legs, Adrien headed into the kitchen where Plagg often slept after Adrien started leaving out pillows. The kwami was curled up upon a red one, snoring softly as his arms were tightly wrapped around a piece of camembert. At any other time Adrien would have considered the scene cute, but his thoughts were so jumbled he couldn’t even process it. 

“Plagg!” 

The black kwami awoke with a jolt, wielding the cheese like a weapon until his eyes fell on the obviously distressed form of his chosen. 

“Kid! You look like hell!” 

Gritting his teeth, Adrien managed to hold out his hand that bore the silver ring, “Please.” 

Reluctantly, the kwami fused with the silver and Adrien breathed a sigh of relief as his transformation began but that relief was short lived as the sensation of leather surrounded him. His breath caught and he moaned loudly, shivering in anticipation as his costume fully formed. He stood there in the pre-dawn light, his chest heaving and his limbs trembling. Every movement made the leather sing against his skin, whispering of seduction and restraints. Swallowing, he leapt stealthily out his window, hoping a rooftop run could quell the maelstrom in his body. He sprang and willed his legs to move. 

He ran. Adrien ran, Chat Noir's form bounding across rooftops and chimneys with reckless abandon. He dove and tumbled his way across Paris, simply moving around or over obstacles, letting nothing slow him down. He ran from his thoughts, from the lusty images his brain forced him to witness and from the shameful desire that poisoned his thoughts. The scent of bread hit his nose as the several boulangeries across the city began their days but he did not stop and ponder. He pressed onwards, never faltering. 

After crossing the Seine, a second set of footfalls synched up behind him and Adrien tripped in surprise, falling off the edge of the building he stood upon moments before. He panicked, groping for the wall and hoping his claws could slow his descent as a whizzing noise resounded in the air around him. 

Quick as lightning what felt like wire wrapped around his upper body, the thin strands pressing his arms against his sides. The strings dug into his skin even through his leather suit, pulling tighter until he stabilized. His descent halted and slowly he was hauled back up to the rooftop, each jerk upwards sending a jolt of pleasure through him. The pressure was _divine_ as it pressed against his rib cage, restricting him insistently again and again. Adrien felt dizzy with sensation, a moan working its way out of his lungs as he was righted on the building. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees, chest heaving and straining against his bonds. 

“Chat… are you okay?” a voice asked, concern dripping from every syllable. She crouched down before him and he lolled his head to look at her, his vision clouded with desire. For one brief moment he thought Marinette stared back at him, but the red around her blue eyes told a different story. Ladybug loosened the wires of her yo-yos, retracting them and Adrien couldn’t withhold the keening whine that slipped from his lips. 

Ladybug visibly startled at the desperate noise, stepping away from Chat like he was on fire. He _felt_ like he was on fire and he _needed_ her to bind him again. 

“ _Nngh_ _,_ L-Ladybug, please…” he begged as he felt his face heat with desire, need, and shame. 

He watched her expression as it jumped from concern to confusion to shock. 

“What’s going on, Chat? Are you okay?” 

He shivered, another soft whine clawing its way from his throat, “I need…” he crossed his arms behind his back, holding them there like they'd been on the bound woman in _Silhouette._  

“Please..! Do it again!” 

Understanding dawned in her expression and her eyes darkened immediately, a sight that made Adrien feel like his blood was boiling in his veins. She walked up to him slowly and with purpose, bending to where he kneeled before her and stroked a gloved hand across his cheek in a caress that left him chasing her hand, whining in desperate need. Her body language shifted, power seeping from every pore as she assessed him. He had never wanted something so badly, and she was going to give it to him. 

“Do you remember my safeword, Chaton?” she asked, her voice a husky purr.  

He shivered, a soft moan escaping him, “R-Raglan..!” he rasped, licking his lips. 

Ladybug smiled, her dark red lips tilting upwards into a dangerously seductive smile. 

“What a good boy, Chaton,” she purred, flinging her yo-yos to bind him. 

He gasped at the sudden contact, feeling the bite of the wires where they crossed the open collar of his suit. They would surely leave marks and Adrien bit back a moan at the thought. Each shiver that wracked his body pulled the wires tighter, pressing them more firmly against his skin. No matter which way he pulled, they wouldn't loosen and he felt trapped. His heart raced in anticipation, arching his back to play with the sensations he'd been gifted. He didn’t even realize his eyes had closed until his body jerked at the feeling of fingers tracing the patch of bare flesh on his chest. 

He moaned loudly as her mouth descended on his throat, her tongue tracing his racing pulse with molten heat. The more he strained against her, the more control he felt slipping away. He drifted in the sweet euphoria of submission, trusting her to conquer him the way he knew she could. He wanted to be destroyed like she'd once destroyed akuma, her strength and poise reducing him to a mess of gasps and pleads; he wanted to relinquish his control to her. She who could just as easily hurt him as she could bring him such ecstasy. Her lips found his, a hand fisted in his hair. The pain from the tug bonded and melded with the pain of the bondage, bleeding into the all encompassing pleasure she was gifting him. She swallowed the moan that bubbled out of his chest, her tongue conquering his mouth with brutal seduction. He felt like he was floating in sensation, drifting away to a place of rapture. 

He gasped as the fist in his hair tightened, tugging sharply and tilting his head back to expose his throat. A deep groan escaped him as her teeth sank into his flesh, bruising and soothing as she devoured him. The scent of her surrounded him, heady and potent and setting his already boiling blood aflame. His breathing grew labored, the restraints pressing against him without weakening. He strained against her, rolling his hips against the shapely thigh she'd pressed between his legs. The pressure on his cock matched the pressure on his arms and his muscles tensed with each jerk of his hips, coaxing low rumbling moans from his lungs.  

The illusion never faltered and she dominated his body, her rough powerful grip manipulating his body with a firmness that would undoubtedly result in bruises. Her fingers drew gasps and groans with each touch she bestowed upon him, taking him apart stitch by stitch. She knew exactly what he needed, exactly how he wanted to be taken. Vaguely, he felt the zipper to his suit loosen and where leather caressed his skin, heat and persistent touch took its place. Each caress of Ladybug's lips and slender digits sent him deeper into that place of rapture, that place of no control. He teetered on the edge as her fingers slipped between the leather and his skin, pressing and pushing, dipping lower and lower... 

" _Aahhhh_ _!_ S-shit fuck _nngh_ — _Ladybug_!" 

He gasped and groaned, his back arching so hard and fast it physically ached as her fingers finally traced his hardness. The wires of her yo-yos pressed tightly against his arms and he _burned._  His breath came hot and fast, Ladybug's name on his tongue like a prayer. Her satisfied hum reached her ears, the sound sending a tremor straight to his already leaking dick, moaning without reservation at the revelation that she too enjoyed _this_ just as much as he did. Her strokes grew more insistent as her teeth grazed his collarbone. He was falling into her, having left the precipice behind. 

Her hot breath danced against the sweat-slicked skin of his chest, her tongue tracing the bruises she'd left on him as her fingers worked against his cock, firm and consistent strokes and pressure sending him spiraling deeper into his pleasure. 

"You are a needy boy, aren't you, Chaton?" She purred, teeth nipping at his jaw as her fingers gave a particularly strong twist. 

" _Aaaahhnnnnn!"_  

"Ah-ah, Chaton... that's not an answer, is it?" 

The reprimand was swift and he couldn't hold back his gasp as her fingers tugged suddenly and sharply in his hair, sending spots dancing in his vision. Her voice was dangerous; seductive and cruel. He could hear the deadly smirk in her tone, could see her quirked lips in his mind. He bit his lower lip, tearing into his own flesh as he swallowed down a moan. 

"Y-Yes, Ladybug. I-I'm a very needy C-Chaton!" 

A pleased hum escaped her, vibrating against his throat. 

"You like being tied up, don't you? You love it when I render you helpless in my grip." 

He couldn't hold it back anymore as her hand worked hard against him, her question sending his heart racing. He was in too deep to be embarrassed or ashamed, instead moaning loudly as the pace against his cock increased. 

"I-I love being t-tied u-uu _unnghh!_ -up! I love it when y-you make me h-h-helpless— _oh god fuck_!" 

He was so close, arching in his restraints in desperation. He needed more, more touches more pressure more more  _more_ — 

 

BEEP. 

 

—he cursed. 

To her credit, Ladybug merely giggled at his creative string of vulgarity as her strokes slowed, quelling the fire in his veins to a slow burn. The wires of Ladybug's yo-yos vanished with a swift whizzing sound, and he flexed his arms. His eyes opened slowly as he slipped from that euphoric abyss, feeling the embarrassment and shame about his behavior creeping up on him. He looked at Ladybug, his breath catching. Those blue eyes were filled with such admiration, such happiness he felt his shame slipping away like a blanket. She leaned in close, her dark red lips catching his and his eyes fluttered closed. 

It was a kiss full of emotion and Adrien could feel it from his head to his toes, tingling in every inch of his body. She held his face like he was something precious, as though he could break at any moment and it brought tears to his eyes. Her lips parted from his and he mourned the contact for a brief moment, sighing in pleasure as her lips returned, peppering kisses across his face. Her touch was soft and gentle as she took the time to kiss the places where the wires dug into his flesh, soothing the slight burn with her plush lips and the gentlest tenderness he'd never found in anyone but her. She sat back on her heels, cupping his face in her hands as she searched his green eyes with her blue. Her smile, he decided, could light up the entirety of Paris on its own. She pressed a quick kiss to his nose, gently zipping up his costume. 

Another beep pierced the air between them. 

"Thank you," he murmured, interlacing her fingers with his, "You always know what I need, My Lady." 

She smiled back at him, "And you always seem to know when I need you, Chaton," she murmured, "thank _you_  for trusting me enough to take care of you." 

Adrien smiled, the grin cocky as his Chat Noir persona took over, "Well, you certainly know how to handle me _purrfectly_ , so I couldn't _pawsibly_  not trust you." 

She gave him a look and he sobered, tightening his grip on her fingers, "Ladybug, I trust you more than I trust anyone else in this world. I know you, I fought beside you, we defeated Le Papillon together _because_  there's trust between us." 

She smiled, a small blush dusting her cheeks and he wanted to kiss her all over again. So he did. 

She squeaked against his lips, surprised at his sudden movement before she relaxed against him. He let a rumbling purr resonate in his chest and she giggled again, the sound like the twinkling of bells. He reluctantly pulled away from her as his miraculous beeped for a third time. 

"I'm afraid we must part ways, My Lady. Until next time?" 

"Until next time," she replied, her voice soft and full of joy. He kissed her knuckles before bounding off into the dawn light, a spring in his step. 

He had some more questions to ask Marinette. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternotes from your Domme Author
> 
> Normally whenever bondage is involved, it's important for the Dom/me to keep SANITY at the forefront of their mind. Even if something seems really cool and you think your sub may like it, tread with caution. Nothing sucks more than having to cut your partner out of their restraints. Stay simple until you're absolutely certain in your technique, and don't push yourself into anything too complex if you're a bondage beginner. Secondly, like I mentioned before, SAFETY is also a massive priority. In general it's a bad idea to dabble in bondage without scissors or some sort of freeing device within reach. If your knots or bindings are too tight on your sub, it can cause blood clots which can result in a pulmonary embolism which, as I'm sure many of you know, can be deadly. NEVER EVER USE SLIP KNOTS WHEN PRACTICING BONDAGE. It's super dangerous because the more your sub tugs, the tighter they get. It can cut off circulation faster than you can say ADRIEN IS A NEEDY SUBMISSIVE and it can cause irreparable damage to your sub. If you're a sub and your Domme wants to do a bondage scene, make sure they have the necessary precautions on hand; hell, make them show it to you and if they refuse or scoff and say they're too good to need those things, RUN. A proper Dom/me will do everything in their power to make you feel safe and comfortable. Ultimately with any bondage situation, make absolutely one hundred percent certain it's entirely CONSENSUAL. Consent is sexy, folks. Enthusiastic consent is even sexier. If your partner says no, put the rope down. Leave the handcuffs in the drawer and forget it. If your partner seems hesitant, keep it simple. Maybe try applying more pressure to their wrists and maybe hold them down slightly. See if it's something they respond positively to (enthusiastic consent or requests for more is usually a good indicator!) and maybe bring up the concept of bringing in rope or other bindings at a different time. If your partner still says no, sorry Charlie, that shit ain't happening.
> 
> SAFE. SANE. CONSENSUAL. Don't be an asshole.
> 
> Play safe, kiddos!


	6. sixième partie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much discussion... And a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god you cute little assholes I've gotten so many kudos on this I could cry. Your comments would make me cry. You're all so damn wonderful and I wanna tie all of you up and keep you in my pocket to cheer me up. I'm definitely gonna have to throw some good sin at you for all your kindness. Ugh.
> 
> Un-beta'd for now, so enjoy.
> 
> Forenote: In France, the insulting gesture is not a middle finger, but a raised backwards facing fist with your opposite hand clasped along the upper arm. Just so you know.

**C O N T R O L**

 

s i x

 

* * *

 

Walking down the street now gave him a secret thrill. The bruises Ladybug had left on him still had yet to fade, and certain spots still held a reddish hue where the wires of her yo-yos dug into his skin, binding him tight and rending him immobile. Every time he pressed a hand to the collarbone hidden beneath his favorite blue scarf, the twinge of soreness that reverberated back through his fingertips drove a secret smile to his lips, as only he knew about the dark marks left behind by those sinful, dark lips as they’d marred his flesh. These marks weren't the most scandalous of secrets, but they were his and they were precious. 

  
When he'd returned from their illicit rendezvous, the first thing he'd done was to examine himself in the mirror after his transformation fell away. Heat had suffused his being at the sight of those intimate marks left behind in red and purple on his skin. He had been able to trace each line across his torso and arms, easily see each bruise on his neck and chest that she'd left with her lips, was able to feel the twinge in his scalp where she'd tugged his blond hair, all with a startling clarity. His lips had still been swollen, a tingling sensation that had continued to dance over the sensitive skin. He'd looked like a constellation, the way the bruises all lined up to paint an abstract picture. He'd wanted to take a photo so he could have a permanent reminder of her power over him even when the marks faded like they'd never been there. (He'd taken several, some of which resulted in some downright sexting-level selfies, tucked safely away in a hidden folder on his phone and computer.)

  
It had been three days since he'd fallen to his knees before Ladybug in the early hours of the morning, pleading with her to help him overcome his desperate need to be dominated. Looking back, he was honestly still surprised she'd been so willing to help him in such a manner. Not to mention that she'd enjoyed their rooftop escapade just as much as he had. Each touch of her fingers and roll of her voice had sent warmth throughout his being, that husky purr conveying her pleasure. He still held tightly to the memory of her lips on his, those soft, loving kisses she'd bestowed upon him when they'd been forced to stop their adventure by the beeping of his miraculous.

  
Adrien looked up to the blue Paris sky, smiling as fluffy white clouds floated along. It was a beautiful day, and for that he couldn't be more grateful. He let out a happy sigh, eyes drifting down to the phone in his hand and more specifically to the address embedded within one particular text message. His lips lifted in a brighter smile before he pocketed the device and stretched his arms behind his head as he walked down the streets of his favorite city. He'd shot Marinette a message three days ago, on the fated morning he'd been gifted help from his Lady. As he'd expected, her response had been positive and welcoming as she invited him to her studio.

  
**I'd invite you sooner, but I'm so busy with commissions for the next few days I'll be sleeping here!**

  
His smile widened into a grin as he remembered the flustered emoticon she'd sent along with the text. 

  
Marinette was a really interesting person, and over their text correspondence they'd maintained for the past few days he felt like he'd started to get to know the real her. While the polished, poised Marinette was what she showed to the world, Adrien found that the more he talked with her the more he seemed to recognize her. Since they'd been talking relatively regularly over the past three days, he found that her mannerisms really hadn't changed that much from school; her passion for design and love for her friends rivalling only her incredible ability to put her foot firmly in her mouth. He found himself looking forward to her responses more and more, a small flutter of something blooming in his chest at each received text.

  
**OMG DON'T LET ME USE THIS MATERIAL EVER AGAIN!!** The text was followed by several angry emojis.

  
_**haha, what's wrong, Mari? letting fabric defeat you? show it who's boss!** _

**_  
_****HELP ME!**  
[image received]

  
He'd been unable to control his laughter at the selfie she'd sent him. It was taken at a slightly higher angle, but it was hard to tell for certain. He could hardly see her under the yards and yards of a shiny, red fabric that was encasing her entire body in some sick approximation of gift wrapping. Her eyes were comically wide and her expression was remarkably unflattering but absolutely hilarious in it's forced terror.

  
_**oh my god i'm dying over here** _

  
**SHUT UP ITS NOT FUNNY**

  
_**it kind of is tho** _

  
**I hate you agreste I hate you so much**  
**[image received]**

  
She'd sent a close up of her fist.

  
_**aww don't be like that I'm sorry your fabric is eating you** _

  
**Fine I forgive you**

**  
** Their running dialogue continued for days and Adrien was surprised at first at how _easy_ it was to joke around and tease her. It felt like something he'd been doing his whole life, even though he distinctly remembered being nothing short of gentle and kind whenever he'd interacted with her at school. It just felt so _natural_ to let a little Chat into their conversations, although he found puns were something he only flung at his Lady. That felt a little too much like betrayal.

  
Her studio was located in the second arrondissement, and it took him a while to get his bearings. It wasn’t often he ventured in this direction, but it was turning out to be quite the exciting excursion. The area was bustling, and textile workers seemed to be everywhere he looked. It made sense for Marinette to set up shop in the second though, as so many other designers had their workshops out in this area. He strode slowly through the streets, taking his time and familiarizing himself with the scenery. Spotting a few distinguishing landmarks and two good looking cafes, he made his way to her building.

  
_**hey so I think I found your building is there a buzzer?** _

  
**You're here already okay hold on!**

  
As he stood on the stoop of the industrial building, he spotted the steel entry system against the right hand side of the door. There didn't seem to be any names, only numbers and letters, which he supposed could be helpful at keeping fans and followers in the dark about a studio's whereabouts. He didn’t know which “three” was her studio, as all she’d said was that it was on the third floor. Luckily the buzzer rang out and he hurriedly opened the door, heading up the two flights of stairs to her mysterious studio. His phone went off with a soft vibration.

  
**3B! Sorry I never told you which one!**

  
Chuckling, he opened the sliding metal door with a large 3B painted on it in white. Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. He walked into a disaster zone. Fabric and material was flung over nearly every surface in the industrial studio, a large sewing machine positioned on a sewing desk by a computer displaying some sort of suit design. A large tack board held the designs that hadn't been digitized yet, highlighting an array of elaborate costumes and small feature pieces. A series of metal and wood structures sat in one corner of the studio, looking half finished and partially covered in different colors of fabric and material. The mess seemed to clear up in the opposite corner of the single room that seemed to serve as a guest spot, judging by the soft pink chaise and armchair. His shoes made muffled scuffs against the concrete floor, and he silently thanked himself for not picking the hard-soled wingtips he'd been eyeing that morning. The click-clacking would have reminded him of his father. 

  
"Adrien!" Marinette cried, hurrying over to him. The normally poised and proper woman he'd seen before looked vastly different and he almost did a double take. Her once immaculate hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a fabric headband pulling her bangs back from her face. She was clad in a pair of pink leggings under a slouchy black sweater, the lacy detailing offering peeks at the white shirt underneath. She was barefoot and he noticed that her toenails were painted the same black as her fingernails. He grinned.

  
"Working hard I see!"

  
She chuckled, sheepishly shifting her weight and gesturing around her, "Sorry I didn't have time to pick anything up."

  
Adrien chuckled, settling down in the armchair. As he went to adjust his scarf he noticed the way her eyes lingered wistfully on the blue fabric. He filed the information away for later examination and instead turned his winning Agreste smile on her.

  
"There's an ulterior motive in wanting to hang out," he admitted as she scurried off to the small tea caddy set up in the corner. Turning on the kettle, she pulled out a teapot and filled it with some leaves.

  
"I had a feeling. Is it BDSM related, perhaps?" She asked, smirking at him. 

  
He chuckled nervously, shifting his weight in his unease, “Eheh, yeah. You caught me.”

  
She hummed knowingly, the sound echoing in his ears and making him swallow.

  
_Is that just a Dominant trait?_ he wondered absently, fidgeting slightly in his seat.

  
“So, Adrien, what is it you want to know?” she asked gently, smiling at him.

  
“Um, you mentioned before that trust is super important but,” he ran his hands through his hair, mussing the once immaculately coiffed locks, “how do you open the conversation with someone? Like… how do you ask them if they’re open to alternative needs?”

  
Marinette’s eyes brightened, “Ah, the inevitable conversation where you ask if you can tie your partner up or if they will give you up,” she sighed wistfully before sobering, “I won’t lie to you, it can be extremely awkward. May I ask a personal question?”

  
Adrien nodded, too embarrassed to speak.

  
Leaning forward in her chair, she met his gaze and asked, “How long have you been with the partner you want to try branching out with?”

  
Swallowing, Adrien tensed, shoulders going rigid in discomfort. “Um, not long. We've um… m-maybe a few days?”

  
Marinette flopped back in her chair, eyes wide. “Wow, you move fast.”

  
Adrien flushed brightly, “I do not!”

  
“That wasn’t meant as an insult, Adrien. I’m not judging you,” she reassured, her voice soft and comforting. He swallowed. 

  
“It’s just… I just… it seems like she wants the same thing I do?”

  
A sigh escaped her lips as she stood to pour the hot water into the teapot, “Its always hard to be certain, but you’re in a bit of a unique situation. If you’ve only been with her a few days and she seems like she would be receptive, it won’t hurt as much if she refuses as you’ve yet to be truly attached,” she mused aloud. Adrien didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d been friends with Ladybug for far longer. Watching emotions flit across Marinette’s face, he wondered what she was thinking about.

  
“If you’re really serious about it,” she started, passing him a teacup, “you should make up a sublist.”

  
“A what?”

  
“Ah, right. Sorry, sometimes it’s so easy to talk with you I forget you’re rather new to this,” she admitted, settling in with her own cup. She took a quick sip before setting the cup down.  
“A sublist is quite literally a list of all the layers of BDSM you’re comfortable with. Typically it's something Dom/mes present to someone they want to take on as a sub but it can also be used by well informed subs. After you write it up, you give it to your partner and break the subject to them, explaining that you’re only interested in the aspects you’ve listed. Your partner can make their decision based on the information you’ve given them.”

  
“So, I have to discuss everything beforehand?” he flinched, realizing that he had no way to contact Ladybug directly. Was he going to have to carry around a list?

  
“Yes.”

  
“Doesn’t that, um, kill the mood?”

  
Marinette gave him a look and his face flushed immediately.

  
“It’s extremely important!” Marinette said, pointing her finger at him, “What if you started a scene and all of a sudden it went in a completely different direction and you didn’t enjoy the aspect!?”

  
Adrien flinched back, imagery flashing through his mind, “Yeah, no, that would be uncomfortable.”

  
Marinette sat back in her chair, relaxing again, “It’s good to know boundaries before you and your partner start on a new adventure so that no lines are crossed. Consent is crucial, and if someone doesn’t preemptively consent you should never ever bring the aspect into play.”

  
“So the preemptive aspect is just for consent?”

  
“Consent and safety, really. What if someone has a trigger and you go to play out a scene that suddenly triggers your partner?”

  
“Isn’t that what a safeword is for?”

  
Marinette shook her head, “A safeword is merely a safety device and it should never have to be used unless in a dire situation. Safe, sane, consensual is the BDSM mantra, and ultimately avoiding your partner’s triggers falls under all three.”

  
Adrien hummed, pondering this concept. The past two rendezvous he’d shared with Ladybug, he’d been the one go instigate and strike up the conversation. So he’d been asking Ladybug if she consented to a very specific area, and she’d given him an immediate out by offering the safeword. She had never branched out from those areas he asked for, he suddenly realized. Was what he had with her even okay?

  
“Out of curiosity,” he started, “how does it work in an anonymous relationship?”

  
Marinette’s eyes narrowed in on him and she pursed her lips, “Anonymous?”

  
“So, like, say you trust the person because you’ve known them for a long time but you’ve never actually met and they want to remain anonymous?”

  
“So…” her brows furrowed, “like an online relationship?”

  
_Close enough,_ Adrien thought.

  
“Yeah, kinda.”  
“Well how well can you trust this person? You’ve never actually met.”

  
“But I’ve been friends with her for years, we met back in middle school, actually,” he admitted, kicking himself mentally all the while. Damn it, this was supposed to be hypothetical!  
The silence that hung between them was heavy like a soaked quilt. It felt oppressive and Adrien found he wanted nothing more than to run away and hide. Marinette seemed to be focused on something in her own thoughts, her mouth slightly open as she remained perched on the edge of her chaise, frozen in a sick fusion of shock and something he couldn’t quite decipher. 

  
“Wow,” Marinette finally murmured, slouching in her seat with wide eyes and a kilometer long stare, “that’s a very long time.”

  
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

  
“And you’ve never actually met her? Like in person?”

  
“Well…”

  
“Okay, seriously? What, were you blindfolded or something?”

  
_Ooh, now there’s an idea! Oh god, stop it brain!_

_  
_ “Or something…”he shook his head, “There were outstanding… circumstances that made it necessary to maintain anonymity. She insisted on it, actually.”

  
“You never even had a clue who she was?”

  
He raised a brow at the question, “No. I mean, I wanted to know more than anything but I never pushed the subject.”

  
Marinette sighed deeply, pulling off her headband and ruffling her bangs, “Well, personally I don’t think its safe for you to continue the relationship realistically. If you seek her out for playtime only and not ask for more, then you keep yourself safe. The minute you introduce romantic attraction, it’s going to get messy.”

  
“But…”

  
Marinette sighed loudly, resting her chin on her hand. “In my professional opinion, if you are able to keep your emotions out of your playtime, then you can progress as normal, but if you ever feel your trust waning, you should insist on revealing your identities to each other. If she shies away,” Marinette leaned in, locking her gaze with his from beneath her straight bangs, “you need to promise me that you, Adrien Agreste, will run.” 

  
Taken aback by her vehemence, Adrien swallowed nervously, “O-okay, I'll run if I lose trust and she refuses to show me who she is.”

  
Marinette’s stern gaze seemed to search his face, and slowly she sat back, crossing her legs and scrutinizing him.

  
“I won’t have a sub lose a Domme who is clearly good for him on my watch,” she said, her voice full of assurance. He blushed. 

  
“Ah, what gave me away?”

  
She giggled, “Your hesitance, mostly. Many aspiring Dom/mes tend to want to jump right in without learning the rules, but you’ve been quietly inquisitive and you take criticism very well,” she complimented. He preened under her attention as she continued, “It was a bit of a dead giveaway, really. It’s also why Felix thought you were mind when we were at Silhouette.”

  
He chuckled, “Guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?”

  
A long pause passed between them and Adrien fidgeted.

  
She finally sighed, “Anyway, back to your main question… A normal progression for an online BDSM relationship is usually a number of steps,” she counted them out on her fingers, “Number one, you actively search for a partner. Don’t let anyone try to coerce you into subbing for them. Number two, decide on a safeword between the two of you if the Dom/me doesn’t already have a go-to one. If they refuse to provide one, RUN. Number three, once you find a partner, you start simple. Basic dominance and submission, nothing too elaborate. Early sessions will build trust between you. Number four, when you’re ready to embark on more, either ask for it via sublist or an explicitly worded mode of communication. Don’t assume your Dom/me will be able to read your mind. And number five, if for whatever reason your Dom/me doesn’t seem to provide after care, run.”

  
“Aftercare?”

  
Marinette smiled wistfully, “Aftercare is for after the end of a scene, where the Dom/me helps the sub find their feet in reality after sinking in so deep to sensation. Usually by gentle touches or kisses, sometimes by a literal cleansing and more in depth caretaking. Generally, the more intense the scene the more aftercare should be provided.”

  
Adrien’s eyes widened in realization, “Oh, that makes so much sense.”

  
She chuckled, “BDSM is so much more than what so many people think of it as. It’s entirely possible to have a healthy relationship and so many do.”

  
“That’s a relief,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head, “When I realized I might be into all this I got scared that there was something wrong with me.”

  
Marinette surged forward, concern lacing her features, “There’s nothing wrong with you, and I’m glad you know that now.”

  
“Yeah,” he murmured, flustered by her concern and kindness, he glanced up at her from beneath his lashes and his breath caught in his throat.

  
He blue irises caught the midday sun and glittered like aquamarine, seeming to refract the light into a thousand little sparkles. Her features were soft, her lips quirked slightly as contentment seemed to envelop her entire being. She was beautiful and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  
“So! How about you show me what you were doing earlier this week with the fabric that tried to eat you?”

 

  
He was screwed.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After notes from your Domme Author
> 
> Sublists are super helpful but not necessary in many BDSM relationships. It can help you decide which direction to go in if you're a new Dom/me and it can help you determine what sounds good and what sounds bad as a new sub. It's a useful tool, but definitely not necessary if you and your partner have a solid dialogue going on what works and what doesn't. Talking about it is the best way to communicate your needs, but a sublist is a great way to start the dialogue.
> 
> The rules of online BDSM relationships that Mari gives Adrien are my own personal rules. I started out as an online Domme with many subs. It's absolutely okay to cater to many people, but you have to be certain that you keep emotions out of the equation. If you find yourself falling for a Dom/me who has more than one sub, that can be emotionally trying and harmful, especially if they aren't looking to collar any subs or be exclusive. (I'll talk about collaring at a later date!) Try to extricate yourself before you're in too deep. Also, if you do decide you want to go exclusive with a partner, you really can't be anonymous. No hiding behind usernames or avatars. Actually Skype a few times, talk out of your roles as D/s and maybe meet up if you live close enough (obviously in public and with a friend standing by though, gotta stay safe guys!) 
> 
> Anyway, that's enough out of me. Stay safe, goobers!


	7. septième partie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien is lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So FINALLY at 5am I'm struck with inspiration and I smashed out this beast in like three hours. Apologies to everyone who was so patient putting up with my slow ass. Writers block is a bitch, tho, ain't it? Un-beta'd per usual.
> 
> Anyway, lots of swell info in this one. Enjoy, nerds.

**C O N T R O L**  

 

 

s e p t 

 

* * *

“More to the left please, Monsieur Agreste!” 

With a carefully concealed sigh, the blond shifted his weight in the desired direction, tossing his hair from his face as he did so. Camera flashes went off, momentarily sending spots dancing in his vision. He easily ignored it, ignored the murmurs of the photoshoot staff resonating from every direction, and most pointedly of all he ignored the model splayed out over him. Green eyes flicked in her direction for a brief moment, taking in the woman’s dark hair and skin. She was beautiful without a doubt, but Adrien found with increasing frequency his gaze no longer lingered. Beautiful she was, but his body refused to stir at the sights that awaited him in life and at work. 

He bottled his frustrations, professionalism outweighing his emotional discrepancies. It had been a week since his visit with Marinette at her studio, and in that time he’d taken her suggestion to heart and written up a sublist… and subsequently edited it no less than fifteen times. It had been surprisingly complex and it really made him think about all the secret desires he'd begun to cultivate. Did he want to be blindfolded? Gagged? Restrained to the point of immobility or just enough to allow him to writhe? Did he want to be punished by hand or paddle or whip? Did he want to be taken out in public like the couples he'd seen at _Silhouette_ _?_ It had been a lot to work through, but he felt his final version captured his desires with the best accuracy.Despite his hard work and frequent questions texted to Marinette, he hadn’t been able to get in touch with Ladybug since their last rooftop rendezvous. He went out frequently as Chat, bounding across the city in search of a flash of red, but he’d had dismal luck so far. He’d taken out his frustrations on several of Paris' criminals, leaving the unsavory interlopers on the steps of several police stations.  

There was last night though, and the incident had given him pause. He’d finally caught a glimpse of her, standing tall and proud atop the Tower, overlooking her city. The lights had illuminated her in a soft glow, casting a halo around her as it caressed her curves and he'd honed in on her like she was a beacon. He’d called out when she was within earshot, and the startled look on her face had thrown him for a loop. In that brief moment where their gazes locked, trepidation had stared back at him through those blue eyes, the usual oceanic depths fraught with wariness and his heart sank as 'd turned and fled, flinging her yo-yos though the air with more speed than he’d seen in a long time. He’d given chase and his dogged pursuit had pushed his body to the limit. He'd never gained on her, the sight of her red-clad form spiraling through the air had proved with surety that she didn't want to be caught. He'd lost her in the area his old middle school was in as she suddenly dropped out of sight off the side of a building. He'd continued searching, but it was like she'd simply vanished into thin air. Not for the first time, he cursed their masks. 

If he'd known who she was beneath the spots, he could simply approach her out of uniform and ask her what he needed to know. However, there was obviously something wrong if she didn't want to socialize with him like she'd been. Had he pushed her boundaries? Did he do something wrong? Did she think he was using her? His throat closed as the sudden realization rocked his heart. If she thought he'd turned to her because he was just a horny little shit, then... that needed to be rectified! He'd turned to her because he trusted her implicitly. He paused his thoughts, concluding for the first time that there were really only two others he trusted with the same capacity as Ladybug. Nino, and perhaps the most surprising of all, Marinette. After that night at _Silhouette_ , he realized he'd placed her in that scant category. 

"Okay! Good! We are done!" 

The photographer's voice pulled him from his internal monologue and Adrien found himself thanking the model he'd been working with as well as the staff. He made his way over to the changing quarters and the stylists methodically stripped him, taking back the high fashion pieces. Left nearly naked in his small cube, he reached down to tug on his jeans and spotted his phone on the chair. 

 **bruuuuh** **wat r u doin 2day ???**  

 _Speak of the devil, eh?_  

Lifting the device, Adrien unlocked it and hastily composed a reply to the text that had been sent an hour ago from his best friend. 

 ** _just_** ** _finished a shoot why?_** ** _whats_** **_up?_**  

 **mari** **s** **hostn** **a class at the club u down?**  

It took Adrien a moment to remember that _Silhouette_  occasionally offered BDSM flavored classes to its patrons. 

 ** _i_** **_didn't know mari hosted those things_** ** _whats_** ** _the topic?_**  

 **ropes** **bruh rooooooopes shes so good dude** **u gotta** **show**  

Adrien forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. He'd been curious about ropes since he'd seen that couple last time he was at _Silhouette_. It seemed so impractical when there were other methods of restraint that took less time, but at the same time... it was shockingly beautiful to look at. But didn't it chafe? He shook his head, those were all things he could ask Marinette at her seminar... class-thing. 

 ** _ok_** ** _ill_** ** _be there what time?_**  

 **730pm but u should come early we gotta chill**  

 ** _ok_** ** _nino_** ** _20 min at yours_** ** _?_** ** _i'_** ** _ve_** ** _got snacks_** ** _?_**  

 **it** **s** **a** **date dude !!**  

Adrien snorted at the kissy face emoji his best friend sent him, locking his phone and slipping it into the pocket of his jeans. Reaching out to grab his shirt, he pulled it over his head and as he straightened it over his torso, he wondered what the evening would hold. Would she be keeping it simple or would she break out something wonderfully complex and wow everyone in attendance? What does one talk about with ropes? Aren't they all the same in the end? 

Habit allowed his legs to carry him off the shoot and down to the waiting car as he continued to ponder it all. He remembered halfway to Nino's to stop and pick up some things for the two of them to munch on, but his brain was in the clouds. He shook himself from his stupor when his driver asked if he was okay. Apparently, Adrien had been sitting in front of Nino's flat for a few minutes now. Flushing in embarrassment, the blond slipped from the vehicle and headed up. 

"Dude! You got my energy drink! You're the best, man!" The darker skinned man cheered as Adrien stepped inside the flat. 

"Well, I can't leave you high and dry, now can I?" 

Nino rolled his eyes, "Yeah, you're too good for that. So, bro, you excited?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat as he cracked open the drink that Adrien was ninety percent sure contained paint thinner. Taking a long drink, Nino sighed blissfully and flopped back on his sectional, propping his socked feet up on the coffee table. 

"Well I've never been to one of these before. What does it entail?" 

Nino grinned, "Well, Mari usually takes her time explaining everything to the newbies, makes sure she lays down the groundwork first, you know?" He said, tilting his head back and rubbing his chin, "She's one of the better instructors I've got on call. She's really strict with the mantra." 

"Mantra?" Adrien asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Safe, Sane, Consensual. You know, the whole backbone of BDSM? She also preaches trust more than any other Dom/me I've come across. She takes it so seriously." 

"Oh. Yeah, she's very good about that, but I get where she's coming from." 

Nino leaned forward in interest, "Wait, how would you know? Unless... oh, _merde_! You've gone kinkster on me, haven't you?" 

"Kinkster? What?" 

Nino launched himself at Adrien, pulling the blond into a headlock, "You're such a kinkster! I should'a known when you were asking us all those q's! Dude!" 

"Nino!" 

The other man laughed, letting Adrien free and the blond scowled, running his hands through his destroyed hair. 

"So, what is it? You Dom or sub?" 

"I-I..." 

"Switch maybe? Like me?" Nino hummed in thought and Adrien fought back the flush he knew was creeping up his neck and staining his ears. 

"Switch? What's that?" 

"Well," Nino started, draping an arm over Adrien's shoulders and pulling him in close as though he was going to reveal the secrets of the universe, "A Switch is someone who enjoys being a Dom and a sub in equal parts." 

Adrien blinked. Marinette hadn't spoken of this before, and now his curiosity was piqued. 

"How did you figure it out?" 

"Marinette helped me a lot, you know? Did we ever mention to you that we were together for a hot second? No? Well, surprise! But like it was just so quick. We didn't mesh, y'know? It was right after Felix screwed poor Mari over, and well we kinda' fell into it." Nino shrugged, "At first I thought I was a sub, cause let me tell you, Mari has a _way_  with ropes that's just _wow_! But I wanted in on the tying stuff too, y'know? But she was very adamant she didn't want that, so we just kinda called our little thing quits." 

Adrien felt like somebody had sucker punched him, staring at Nino with wide eyes. His mind spun with the implications and he felt an ugly feeling swell in his stomach. If he didn't know better, he would have called it jealousy. But what did he have to be jealous of? He wasn't with Marinette. He didn't like Marinette, right? He was in love with Ladybug! 

"Oh. I didn't realize you two had been intimate." 

Nino shrugged, "It doesn't come up often, and it's not like we talk about our sex lives in front of other people, right? But that's how I figured it out. She really did help, hooked me up with a couple other Switches for a while, that was nice." 

Adrien flinched back like he'd been slapped, internally screaming. As much as he loved Nino, he didn't want to think about him hooking up with random people, and even less so in a BDSM context. 

"Anyway!" He coughed, "What's Marinette going to be talking about tonight specifically?" 

"Well she's our best rope tutor, so she's gonna' be talking about prepping your own rope and how to take care of it. If we're lucky, maybe she'll show us a few ties!" 

"Huh. She's really that good, isn't she?" 

"Oh, dude, you have _no idea,_ " Nino said, leaning back again and flicking on the TV, "she's got mad skills." 

Making a noncommittal noise, Adrien  settled back against the familiar plush of Nino's sectional, relaxing as the program washed away his nervousness. Time flitted by, conversation with his best friend falling into an old familiar rhythm. Music, movies, pop culture... and before he knew it, Adrien was faced with the realization that in forty minutes he would be sitting in on his very first BDSM class. When Nino pulled into the parking lot behind _Silhouette_ , chattering offhandedly about something or other, Adrien found himself unable to focus on anything but the impending class that could very easily make or break him. 

He'd been on his own for a week, without help from Ladybug. There had been several nights where he'd found himself unable to sleep, tormented by memories and desires bubbling beneath his skin. It made casual experiences difficult, and he wondered if this class would help or hinder him. 

"Hey, Nino," the voice rang out and his heart leapt, "Oh! Adrien, I didn't realize you were coming too!" 

Green eyes sought out blue and he swallowed. He could very easily lose himself in those oceanic depths, and even worse he found he wouldn't have minded. 

"Hey, Mari. Yeah, I dragged him cause I figured the little kinkster couldn't miss one of your tutorials." 

"I'm not planning on doing anything spectacular tonight, Nino," she replied, a note of sadness tinging her voice. 

"It's okay, Marinette. I'm actually really interested in this. It sounds so complicated." 

Flushing at his indirect praise, the dark haired woman tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears, "Well, since tonight is a beginner class I'm glad you're here. There's no such thing as too much knowledge!" 

Adrien smiled at her, his heart beating wildly in his chest. She looked stunning even in casual wear. Her jeans fit her perfectly, and the soft fabric of her shirt skimmed her curves in a way that made him want to know what was beneath the fabric. Deft fingers pulled her black locks up and off her slender neck, revealing the two dark studs in her ears as she tied it back in a high ponytail. He swallowed. 

"Why don't you go ahead and take a seat," she said, gesturing to the row of chairs set up by the stage, "People will start to show up soon and if you want to learn, you should pick a spot with a good view," she winked and Adrien felt the flush shoot up his neck to burn in his cheeks and he hurried away. 

She was right, and within a few moments people started filing in. Glancing around, he spotted Nino up in the DJ booth as soft music played out over the plethora of speakers in the club, muted because of the hour. Soon he was surrounded by people from all walks of life, from students to middle aged business folk. Everyone chatted amicably with one another but Adrien withdrew from discussion, instead focusing on Marinette's smooth movements in the corner of his vision. 

"Okay! Hello everyone, and welcome to _Silhouette_ 's BDSM Tutorials!" She said, approaching with a box in her hands. She was greeted by everyone and Adrien felt himself relax. 

"So tonight I'm going to be talking to you all about rope," she said, setting the box down on the small table beside her, "it's the most versatile in that you can use it for many different things during playtime! However, like every other aspect of BDSM you have to make sure your partner feels safe throughout the entire experience!" 

Adrien leaned forward, captured by her soft but authoritative tone. Her poise was impeccable as she withdrew several items from the box. 

"Before you embark on your bondage adventures, make sure your partner is familiar with the sensation of losing circulation. They have to be able to tell you if something is wrong, because if they can't you very well could cause permanent damage. If you use restraints in any form, you should employ the two finger rule," she paused, lifting a cuff made of white rope out of her box, "meaning, when you tie your partner up, there should be enough room in your bonds for you to comfortably slip in two fingers and wiggle them a bit."  

She demonstrated wiggling her fingers in the cuff, and a few giggles rose up from the audience. Adrien felt a smile stretch across his face. 

"This ensures that you're not tying your partner up too tightly. Safety is paramount! Even if you're experienced with the knots you want to use, make sure you have a pair of safety scissors on hand. Sometimes knots go wrong and the bondage doesn't work like you want it to. In that situation you'll need to cut your partner free." 

She held up the safety scissors and Adrien made a mental note to buy a pair. 

"Finally, make sure you never leave your partner unattended! This may sound silly, but some people truly enjoy being left completely helpless. If you want to give your partner this sensation, perhaps invest in a blindfold and earplugs so you can keep an eye on them without their knowledge. You'll need to be vigilant, as loss of circulation is life threatening. I've said it before and I'll say it again, trust in your partner to know when something is wrong." 

She set the white rope back into the box along with the scissors, pulling out two different coils of rope. 

"That being said, you should probably familiarize yourself with the types of rope you could use! Synthetics are okay if they're from a proper manufacturer, but in general you should treat and prepare your own rope to customize your sensations," she said, holding up the blue rope, "this one is a pretreated rope I got from my favorite manufacturer," she held up the muted red rope, "and this one is a hemp rope I treated myself." 

"How do you know if the rope is good or not?" Someone asked. 

"Good question. Usually you can tell by the manufacturer. There are several companies that cater exclusively to BDSM practitioners, and those are the safest. Keep your eye peeled for recommendations from kinbaku artists and other noteworthy testimonials from others." 

"What's kinbaku?" 

"Kinbaku is commonly referred to as shibari in the west, and it originates from the Japanese art of Hojojutsu, which was used originally to bind and torture prisoners. However, as time passed, it became an art form, although an art form with obvious erotic overtones!" She said, winking. 

Adrien's heart seized. 

"So, when buying pretreated rope, make sure you keep your eye out. Don't get suckered into buying anything without at least a few BDSM related testimonials. Otherwise you might pay for inferior product." 

She passed around the red rope, "This is rope that I have treated. It's made of hemp, which is a wonderful material. To start, soak the rope for a while in room temperature water. This removes any unwanted odors. Also, make sure your length is substantial. Most knots and bonds require a lot of rope, especially the more beautiful designs. Once you have what you want, you toss the rope in a washing machine on hot with just a little bit of detergent. This removes any dirt or contaminants in the rope. Some people wash it twice if it's particularly dirty, but it's not entirely necessary. After you've washed it, you boil the rope for on average nine to twelve hours." 

"Why so long?" 

"The length of time boiling is important because that hot water softens the fibers of the rope so they are less abrasive. You don't want to use abrasive rope because it can cause serious damage!" 

Everyone around Adrien seemed to hum in agreement. 

"After you've boiled it, you need to dry it out. You can either hang it to dry or toss it in the dryer on low heat and tumble. Once it's dried, you need to stretch out the rope. All this processing can cause the fibers to tighten up and we don't want stiff rope! Stretch it out over a hard surface, but not anything abrasive!" 

"Is that to keep your rope from falling apart?" 

"In part, yes. It's also counter productive! So don't do it, guys!" She scolded, "after you've stretched the rope, you're going to slowly burn off the scraggly edges." 

"Why are we burning the rope? All that effort!" 

"You're not trying to destroy the whole thing! After you've done all this treating, sometimes scraggly pieces will stick up around the edges. Now, some people keep them but I personally believe they serve no purpose and should be singed off. After you've singed them all off, toss it back in the washer and then dry it out again." 

"Again?" 

"Yes, you don't wanna be smearing black ash over your rope, do you? No! Wash it!" 

The man who spoke up was chastised and Adrien fought the urge to smirk. 

"After you've dried it, you need to stretch it out again. After you've pulled it, you need to oil the rope. Never, I repeat, _never_  use any sort of edible oils! They will go rancid and ruin all of your hard work! So put down that weird smelly stuff and stick to what works! Jojoba extract is my personal favorite for hemp rope because it smells nice and doesn't go rancid. It's also pretty cheap!" 

"Is there anything else we can use?" 

"Well, yeah, you can use any other oil aside from vegetable oils really, but Mink oil is lauded as being some of the best oil you can use for rope. I don't like it because although it does a wonderful job, it's not so nice for the little minks!" 

Murmurs of agreement and sympathy for the tiny rodents passed over the audience and Adrien chuckled a little to himself. 

"So, what you want to do is oil a small cloth and then run it over the rope. A single soaked rag can oil usually about 7.6 meters of rope. You'll need to adjust accordingly for whatever length you're using. You should do this three times, and be careful of clumping! Once you've finished, you need to seal the edges of your rope. Some people use high temperature wax but I like to whip them closed." 

"What's whipping?" 

"It's a method of binding ends of rope. Sailors are very proficient in it. I may have to have a separate class on it entirely." 

She reached into the box again and pulled out a length of rope with a green color that Adrien immediately flinched from. It was such a close match to the color of Chat Noir's sclera... he swallowed, wanting nothing more than for that rope to bind him tightly. 

"Now that I've taught you all how to prepare your own rope, how would you like a demonstration of a simple cuff?" 

Everyone seemed to grow excited, and Adrien found himself swept up in the emotional state of the group. 

"Alright! Any volunteers?" 

A small red-haired girl raised her hand and Marinette beckoned her forward. She sat herself down on her haunches with her back to the group. 

"I'm going to quickly demonstrate a behind the back bow knot!" 

Adrien was lulled into a sense of want as her soothing voice resonated over the group of spectators. Marinette skillfully pinned the girl's arms, never ceasing her gentleness. Her voice rang loud and clear as she looped the bright green rope around the redhead's wrists, securing them with swift tugs and demonstrations of how loose the bonds should be. 

 

He drifted. 

 

He imagined. 

 

And his body ached. 

 

All too soon, the redhaired girl was unbound and the group filed out of the club. Adrien lingered, watching Marinette methodically checking the girl's wrists and inquiring about her wellbeing. Adrien bit back his feelings of jealousy (because there was no doubt at this point that it was _absolutely_  jealousy swimming in his chest) and waited. Marinette met his eyes and the clear blue immediately clouded, darkening to an indigo he'd never seen on her before. 

"Adrien, how long has it been?" 

"I—What?" 

"How long has it been since someone's... helped you?" 

He swallowed, unsure how she'd known, "Seven days," he admitted, bowing his head. 

"Do you trust me?" 

His gaze shot up to hers and he nodded, "I trust you." 

She nodded, extending a hand. 

"Come with me to my apartment." 

He tilted his head, confused, but took her hand anyway. His abruptly lost his breath. 

Her eyes sharpened, the stormy blue piercing straight through him like the electric currents of a lightning bolt. He shivered as those soft lips quirked into a smirk. 

"I'll take care of you." 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternotes from your Domme Author
> 
> SWITCH - As Nino briefly explained, a Switch is a practitioner of BDSM who doesn't solely identify with the Dominant or submissive role. As the title suggests, people who are Switches can quite literally switch back and forth between both roles when the need arises. Switches aren't as often talked about because of how ingrained the roles are in BDSM culture, but fear not if you think you identify with this! It's normal and okay!
> 
> BONDAGE - Again, all the rules that Mari lays out are the basics. It's expected that if you plan on tying someone up that you take responsibility. SAFE, SANE, CONSENSUAL, yeah? Don't be a dick, watch your knots and don't get overzealous or you'll have to ruin all that pretty rope! If you're looking for some more knowledge, I'm sorry I didn't explain exactly how to tie the knot Mari uses. If you're interested in learning, Two Knotty Boys have some spectacular guides for baby Dom/mes looking to flesh out their repertoire. They sell books and there's even some online sources. I find full descriptions of how to tie bonds and knots can actually detract from the story, and since it's from Adrien's perspective, it's less important that he know precisely how to tie anything... so I gloss over it. If there's enough interest, I'll try to explain it more in the fic itself and less down here.
> 
> ROPE PREPARATION - The steps that Mari gives here are steps I have followed with great success. However, that said, I don't often buy untreated rope because I have a sensuality shop in my hometown that I patronize. If you're looking for an online vendor, the Twisted Monk is arguably the best. He ships on time and everything he has is super swell quality.


	8. huitième partie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they get domestic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Been a while, eh?
> 
> First of all I want to apologize for how freaking long everyone's been waiting for this steaming pile of shit fic to update. I have no excuses honestly, other than writers block is the worst kind of bitch there is. Your kind words and reviews and encouragements over on Tumblr have kept me sustained. This wouldn't have happened without all of your support.
> 
> So without further ado, enjoy.

**C O N T R O L**

 

  
  
h u i t

 

* * *

 

He could feel her hand on his lower back like a brand, burning through the fabric of his shirt to sear his flesh with a heat that rippled across his body. She'd not stopped touching him since she’d invited him to hers, her fingers resting on a shoulder, his wrist, his spine. It was both a thrill and a comfort, and felt like she was claiming him. He swallowed as her taxi pulled to the curb and those dark painted fingers slipped from his back to his wrists, drifting down his arm with feather-light intensity that set his skin ablaze.

  
The pleather seats were unpleasant after her delicate ministrations and he was grateful for the way her thumb moved in oblong shapes against the underside of his wrist. It gave him a focus, somewhere to divert all his attention so he could ignore the less-desirable sensations of a cab that probably hadn't been cleaned in the last century.

  
"Adrien."

  
Her voice broke him from his state and green eyes turned to meet blue. The storm still raged, the color still dark, but she smiled at him.

  
"Adrien, you need to tell me what you want."

  
Want? What he wanted? Wasn't that obvious? He tried to open his mouth to speak but his throat felt like he'd swallowed sandpaper.

  
“Do you have a preferred safeword?”

  
He found himself nodding and she leaned in closer. He could smell the wisp of floral perfume she'd undoubtedly dotted behind her ears.

  
“Okay, I’m going to need you to tell me your safeword, _mon petite_ , because I need to make sure you're safe. Okay?”

  
“Raglan,” he managed, feeling unbearably weak and shy. A flush colored his throat and he bit his lower lip.

  
A soft smile worked its' way across Marinette's face and she lifted his chin. He hadn't even noticed he'd ducked his head, but when his eyes locked with hers a swell of affection washed over him and he felt his body relax. She was with him. He was safe.

  
"I..." He paused, nervous, "I don't want to be in control anymore."

  
Marinette didn't react, merely nodding and continuing to smile at him. He held onto that warm feeling as the taxi ventured further into the city.

  
The passing of buildings was hypnotic and Adrien lost himself to the fleeting scenery and the weight of her thumb against his wrist. When the cab finally stopped, he had no idea where they were. He felt disconnected from his body, floating above and witnessing but not truly experiencing. Marinette was ever present, a solid anchor in the tumultuous sea of sensations that threatened to swallow him whole. She murmured softly to him, her voice a rich hum over the noise of his blood beating in his ears. She guided him step by step upwards. A flight here, turn there. The sharp click of a key in a lock startled him, and trembles worked their way through his body. Her fingers chased away the shaking beneath his ribs, warm palms easing away the gooseflesh on his arms.

  
He took in a sharp breath when he returned to himself, the softness of her sofa surrounding him like a shield he hadn’t known he needed. A crochet blanket was draped across his lap, and Marinette stood in the doorway, leaning against the white trim and smiling at him, two steaming mugs held in her hands.

  
“Your place is nice,” he choked out, his voice rough and weak as though he hadn’t used it in weeks.

  
“Thanks, Adrien. I quite like it myself.” She handed him one of the mugs, “Drink this. I think you may have dissociated a bit on the way here.”

  
“I’m sorry.”

  
“Don’t be. You were very anxious. It’s not uncommon for inexperienced parties to react the way you did before embarking on something new. The combination of excitement and nervousness is really overwhelming.”

  
He felt his face warm. It was soothing to know she was so at ease with him. He wrapped his fingers around the mug and inhaled the steam drifting above the lip. It smelled like chamomile.

  
“We don’t have to embark on anything tonight if you don’t want to,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence that had formed between them.

  
“But…”

  
“Seriously, Adrien. Dissociating like you did is no joke, and I don’t want you to think you can’t say no. You can always say no with me, okay?”

  
He nodded, staring down into the tea in his mug, “But what if I still want to?” he whispered.

  
“Then you remember your safeword and use it if you feel threatened at any time.”

  
He looked up at her for the first time since she'd sat in the armchair across from him. Her calm was contagious and Adrien felt confidence flood through him.

  
“Okay.”

  
Marinette's posture immediately changed, her back straightening as she slipped from her laid back position on the armchair. She exuded poise as she sipped her tea. Quiet reigned and Adrien steadily drank his fill. He set his mug down on a coaster he spotted on the coffee table between them and sat at attention, watching Marinette for any sign of what she wanted him to do.

  
Eventually she finished her tea and set it down on another coaster, crossing her legs elegantly at the knee.

  
“Stand up.”

  
There was no question or request in those words. It was all command and Adrien followed it before he really comprehended what she wanted. Her tone demanded obedience and damn if he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted.

  
“Come here.”

  
He walked slowly around the coffee table to stand beside her. She still hadn’t looked at him and for some reason, that’s all he wanted from her.

  
“Kneel.”

  
He very nearly hurt himself with his how quickly he fell to his knees in his effort to please her. If he was good enough, would she grace him with a glance? An acknowledgement? Would she praise him for his obedience? He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, worrying the reddened skin. He really wanted her to praise him…

  
As he knelt, silence passed between them. It made him want to fidget but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate his disregarding her requests. So he remained as still and attentive as he could, fighting the antsy feeling in his limbs. Eventually Marinette stood, gathering both mugs and walking to her kitchen and out of his line of sight. His heart raced when she vanished through the doorway, a fear that she would abandon him flitting through his veins but he had so much faith in Marinette… she would never hurt him on purpose. He trusted her.  
She came back into the room and he fought back his nervous excitement when he saw the bundle of green rope she held in her hands. He did his best not to react, to keep himself still and calm as she walked around him, to stand at his back. A tremor swept down his spine.

  
Sudden pressure between his shoulder blades forced him to bend in half so he was nearly kissing the floor and a gasp slipped from between his lips as a wave of heat washed over his body. He trembled with anticipation, tingles alighting on his skin and a burning working up the flesh of his throat. Soft hands traced their way down his shoulders, firmly bending his arms behind his back. He didn’t need to be told to stay still. Abrupt and sensuous, he felt it.

  
The rope was cool against his heated skin, dragging against his arms as she slowly wound it around. It wasn’t too tight, it felt surprisingly roomy, but somehow he knew that roominess was deceptive. Marinette was too skilled, she wouldn’t make it easy for him to slip out of her hard work… right? The pressure between his shoulder blades increased and a groan escaped him. A soft hand caressed his jaw and he leaned into the touch.

  
“Such a good boy, _mon petite_ ,” she murmured, her lips feather light against the shell of his ear, “such a good boy for me.”

  
A whimper—for it could be described as nothing else—slipped from him. The praise warmed him from head to toe, a shiver of delight dancing down his spine. Her fingers trailed delicately along the curve of his jaw to tangle in his hair, gentle but firm pressure against his scalp. He loved it.

  
“You will obey.” She said, command in her voice. He felt obligated to answer her.

  
“Y-Yes…”

  
“Very good, _mon petite_ ,” she praised, her fingers tugging slightly upwards against his hair. “Stand for me.”

  
Shakily, he pushed himself up to standing, his knees knocking and throat bared. Her fingers slipped from his hair and a choked off whine echoed in the quiet room. She grasped the dangling remnant of the rope like a leash and tugged it gently.

  
“We will go into the kitchen.”

  
He did not respond, walking just behind her. Her kitchen was small but very functional and cute. Teal and white, it reminded him of an oasis. He didn’t notice as she retrieved a small pillow from somewhere, setting it down beside the counter. She gazed at him, blue eyes electrifying.

  
“Kneel.”

  
He obeyed, curious warmth settling in his chest. It was so considerate of her to give him a pillow. She must have known about the steady ache coming from the joints. She didn’t have to be so thoughtful, but… it made him immeasurably happy. As he settled in, she smiled, carding her fingers through his hair.

  
“You’ve been such a good boy,” she praised, “I bet you’re hungry.”

 

 He nodded as words failed him.

  
“You will remain here while I whip up something for us.”

  
As if on cue, his stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten in quite some time. He flushed furiously and ducked his head. She raised his chin with a gentle tap of her fingers.

  
“None of that.”

  
And so he smiled.

  
Marinette hummed while she worked, a soft melody interspaced by the sound of a knife against a cutting board. Aromatic smells filled the kitchen and Adrien felt himself relaxing on his knees. He wondered what she was making, but busied himself watching her work from his place by her feet. Shyly, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the soft denim covering her legs. The chopping paused and he froze.

  
“You seem to enjoy tactile things, mon petite.”

  
It wasn’t so much a question as it was an observation, and he flushed as he pressed his face against her leg.

  
“Yes.”

  
The water ran from the sink and then cool fingers dragged across his scalp, “I’m almost done.”

  
She stepped away from the counter, gesturing for him to stand. He hastily obeyed, wobbling slightly as his arms tugged against the ropes as he struggled to remain balanced. A heady rush flooded him as the ropes chafed slightly against his arms, reminding Adrien that he was in fact bound by Marinette’s will. She bent to pick up the soft pillow, walking the short distance to the small white wooden table, where she set it down beside one of the two chairs.

  
“Come here and wait for me.”

  
Adrien did as he was told. His knees ached slightly from prolonged kneeling but it was a good ache; it meant he'd done something to please Marinette, and he shook slightly with the need to continue doing so. Every time she praised him it was like someone had lit fireworks inside him, reverberating against his ribs in time with his racing heart.

  
He settled beside the white chair, resting back on his heels with a rush of breath. Adrien stared at her back as she continued to work, marveling at the picture she painted. He'd long only thought of Ladybug to be the epitome of female beauty and ultimately to be his type. However the more he gazed at Marinette, the more he wondered. He'd always had an eye for it, and now he was kicking himself for not noticing Marinette to be the beauty she truly was.

  
He knew she'd not liked him at first when they’d met in middle school, what with the whole Chloe-gum thing, but she'd warmed up to him by the time they'd entered high school. In between, there’d been lots of stuttering and shyness, not to mention lots of awkward silences. He'd worked hard to make sure he was kind and straightforward with her and it had been so worth it when she started speaking to him without reservation. Alya, Nino, and Marinette were and always would be his best friends.

  
“Adrien.”

  
Her voice was soft but firm and he tore himself from his thoughts abruptly. She sat beside him, sliding her chair in with a quiet shuffle and lifted a bite of what looked like bruschetta to her lips. He watched her in silence, the crunch from the bread the only sound between them until his stomach chimed in. Wordlessly, her hand reached down, slender fingers holding a bite between them. He felt his face flush, but what had he been expecting? How else was he to eat but from her own hands when his were so obviously tied? He bit back a whimper and hesitantly wrapped his lips and teeth around the offering.

  
It was delicious, and he let loose a hearty moan of pleasure as he chewed. Marinette's chuckle made him blush, and her fingers in his hair made him preen, leaning into the touch as she continued to eat with her other hand. It seemed she would feed him after she’d fed herself and he started to look forward to the extension of her fingers rather than feeling embarrassed. He started to love it, pressing soft kisses to her fingers in thanks. It usually got him a prolonged moment of her hands in his hair.

  
He’d originally told her he didn’t want to be in control, and this was such a good and simple way that she could take that from him. He felt adored, taken care of in a way none of his other partners had ever made him feel before. She took the reins without question and he wanted so much to please her, wanted so much to make her as happy as she’d been making him. He felt like he was floating, surrounded by adoration and caring touch.

  
Once Marinette had the dishes put away, she called him into the living room, placing another pillow on the floor by the sofa. They settled in, he on his pillow and she on the sofa for a long time, watching the news as she carded fingers through his hair. He lost himself to the sensation, giving himself over to her completely, surrendering to her to a degree he’d never thought possible. His eyes slipped shut.

  
The night must have grown long because eventually, she stood him up again and walked him down the hallway. She had him stand outside her bedroom as she changed into pajamas, calling him in when she was done.

  
“Come here, _mon petite_ , let me see your arms.”

  
He turned, flushing as her soft fingers brushed against his skin, tracing the edge of his bindings. He whined when he felt her loosening them, but a gentle spank silenced him with a squeak. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment, on one hand humiliated by the fact that she’d needed to reprimand him like a child. On the other… the sharp smack had sent heat shooting straight between his legs. His arms fell limply to his sides and he blushed even darker as she slowly traced her fingers over the reddened flesh.

  
She knelt before him, examining his dark knees. She pressed her fingers to the joints, working the skin softly with her fingertips. He groaned, the blending of pain and pleasure flooding his body. She massaged the areas with a thoughtfulness that took his breath away, rubbing his legs before she stood back up. She was taking such good care of him it started to bring tears to his eyes. He fought them back with great effort, not wanting to make her worry.

  
“Come,” she beckoned, leading him to the living room.

She laid down on the sofa, gesturing to the space beside her. He folded himself onto it and leaned back into the plush upholstery as she turned on the television. He wondered what was next as she flipped through the channels, eventually settling on some show about baking. He sat there, uncertain until her fingers slipped into his hair again.

  
He melted.

  
He didn't know how long they stayed there, watching baking shows as she worked him into a relaxed stupor, but the calm adoration she lavished upon him eventually pulled him into slumber.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After notes from your Domme Author
> 
> DISSOCIATION - this is very serious. It can happen and has happened to me when a new sub is truly very nervous. It's not necessarily bad, but if you notice yourself dissociating or your sub slipping this way you need to make them comfortable and safe so that when they come back to themselves they won't feel threatened. Do as Marinette' did, confirm with them that they are still okay with proceeding before you try anything.
> 
> DOMESTIC BDSM - this is honestly my favorite type of nonsexual BDSM. The ropes were unnecessary but Mari knew Adrien wanted that, but anyway... Domestic BDSM is soft and kind, essentially the Dom/me's job it to take care of all the sun's needs, food, comfort, reassurance... it allows the sub to relinquish control in a gentle way. I do this frequently on a more minor scale with my partner/sub when they start panicking. Giving them a set of rules or tasks to follow, or just making the decisions for them. It can be really lovely. Play around with it if you're interested in some low-key playtime. It's very loving.
> 
> Play safe!


End file.
